


Parallels

by inatshej



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Hale Fire, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternative Sexuality, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arcades, Art, Artist Derek, Asphyxiation, Asshole Derek, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bad Flirting, Beacon Hills High School, Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, Biphobia, Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Blushing, Chess, Classical Music, Colors, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Companionable Snark, Cultural References, Dancing, Derek Hale & Erica Reyes Friendship, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin Friendship, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Endgame, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski UST, Derek Has a Crush on Stiles, Derogatory Language, Dom Derek, Dom/sub, Drawing, Embarrassment, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frottage, Hale Fire Survivors, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Humor, Ice Cream, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Derek, Jock Derek, Lacrosse, Lacrosse Player Derek, Lacrosse Player Stiles Stilinski, Lacrosse Team, Lesbian Character, Light BDSM, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Male Homosexuality, Mathematics, Music, Musical References, Nerd Stiles, Nerdiness, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Derek, Pansexual Character, Party, Past Derek Hale/Paige, Pining Derek, Poetry, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Popular Derek, Popularity, Protective Scott, Role-Playing Game, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, School, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Reflection, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Sexual Violence, Sexuality, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Dancing, Smut, Snark, Some Humor, Stiles Has a Crush, Stiles Stilinski Has a Crush on Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Has a Crush on Lydia Martin, Sub Stiles, Swearing, Tags Are Fun, Tea, Teen Angst, Teen Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Teen Years, Teenagers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vernon Boyd & Derek Hale Friendship, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Wordcount: Over 10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inatshej/pseuds/inatshej
Summary: Stiles slowly pulls in a mouthful of curly fries, dumbly focused on the task.''It's weirdly homoerotic how you do this,'' muses Derek, eyeing him.Stiles chokes and Derek's lips curl up into an almost smile. It's so easy to get the reaction he wants from Stiles.''Yeah, it's disgusting, Stilinski,'' says Jackson, looking at the boy with distaste.Derek turns to him, letting his eyebrows rise. ''And who asked you, Whittemore?''Jackson glances at him, surprised. ''I've just agreed with y-''''No one cares,'' Derek interrupts him. ''Fuck off.''





	Parallels

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for homophobia, BDSM, and Cannibal Corpse's songs. I mean, they are really... yeah... they're just-...  
> I know how it sounds, but it's not that bad. High school au, friends to lovers, friendship. An unhealthy amount of UST.  
> And poetry: Boyd cites fragments from William Wordsworth's Preface to „Lyrical Ballads” and „O Nightingale! Thou Surely Art”.

The newcomers aren't impressive this year.

''You're all terrible,'' states Finstock. ''But–'' he raises his finger, focusing the attention of the boys on himself, ''my training will change you in the way you don't even expect.''

Derek notices a look the pale, lanky guy exchanges with his brown-haired friend.

''You'll go through hell, but you'll get there!'' Finstock adds powerfully.

''...to Hell?'' the guy asks quietly, turning to his friend who snorts.

Derek grimaces. ''What are you even doing here? You suck,'' he says bluntly to the guy. ''You too, but less,'' he nods to the friend.

'' _Different reasons_ ,'' shoots the lanky guy sarcastically. ''Besides, that's my business,'' he says, straightening. ''I can go to whichever school club I want for whatever reason.''

''Do you want the team to fail the games this year for whatever and different reasons as well?''

''Look, asshole,'' the guy narrows his eyes and jabs Derek's chest with his finger.

Derek's eyebrows raise to his hairline as he looks at where the guy's touching him and at his face, then at his hand and at him again, and again, _and again_.

The guy takes his finger and blurts out, ''I'm not scared of you.''

Derek stares him down, straightening his back and crosses his arms, making a show of his muscles.

The guy looks away. ''Okay, maybe I am, but-''

''Hale, are you done flirting with the new guy?''

Derek rolls his eyes, standing still. People keep looking at them-

oh fuck that, he may as well amuse himself, it's a joke anyway. ''No, coach, but it can wait,'' he replies with a straight face.

He can't help a slight smirk as the guy flushes and splutters.

 

''You're doing it all wrong.''

''Then do enlighten me, Hale,'' Stiles huffs out.

''Straighten your back and hold your crosse a bit lower.''

''Stop trying to feel each other up!'' yells Finstock.

Stiles turns to him, incredulous. ''We're not- we're training! And anyway I'm straight!''

The coach stops to stare at him for a beat, then bursts out laughing.

The seconds go by and he _keeps on laughing_.

''Okay, okay, I get it!'' hisses Stiles, blushing furiously. ''But if anyone's straight here, it's Derek Hale.''

Finstock, earlier gasping for air now starts laughing anew, bending in half. The other guys are smirking, some laughing as well, glancing at them.

Stiles groans at the scene and Derek leaves to drink some water. Finstock has the weirdest ideas, but it's odd that he keeps on joking that they are together. Didn't he once say that jokes have short expiration dates? Whatever.

 

He notices Stiles during lunch and, not thinking much of it, comes up to him.

''Let's eat lunch together,'' he suggests in a mild voice.

''No way,'' replies Stiles immediately. ''No way it's happening.''

Derek grips his arm. ''You sure you want to make a scene here?'' he asks. Some students are already observing them, waiting for whatever will happen. ''Come on, it'll be _nice_.''

''Yeah, okay, it'll be awesome,'' agrees Stiles faintly at once.

People still turn their heads as they are passing them by.

''You're such an idiot, Derek,'' sighs Lydia, looking at Stiles.

Next to Derek, Stiles suddenly straightens and his expression clears. ''Can I just say how much I agree with-'' he cuts himself off, realizing Lydia's already stopped paying attention to them and now talks with Jackson.

Stiles keeps glancing at her during the meal, though, and Derek stares at him. ''You're crushing on Lydia Martin?'' he asks, disbelieving. ''She won't ever acknowledge you.''

''Fuck you. She could-''

''She's _way_ out of your league.''

''Look, I know I'm not-''

''She doesn't even know your name, does she?''

''Of course she does,'' says Stiles. ''We're both in a math club.''

''Lydia?'' Derek turns to the girl. ''Do you know him?'' he asks, gesturing at Stiles.

''No,'' she replies, disinterested, and comes back to her conversation with Jackson. Derek huffs out a laugh at her unmitigated response and turns to look at the boy.

Stiles' heartbroken.

The emotion's so real and raw it startles Derek, and trying to mask a sudden flash of guilt, he laughs meanly again. ''You have no chance.''

Stiles doesn't answer, his face a blank mask. After a while, Scott approaches them, determined, and sits down at the table without a word.

Derek glances at him, surprised, but doesn't bother with a comment, noticing that Stiles relaxes a bit seeing his friend.

 

Making sure Lydia's nearby, Derek pours a bit of cold water on Stiles' neck and smirks as the teenager jerks and flails his arms, startled. Stiles notices Lydia and heat rises on his cheeks, slowly spreading to his ears, neck, probably lower, but the shirt-

Derek looks away.

 

''Hey, what's the answer to task 30?'' asks Heather.

''1,3(7),'' replies Derek.

Heather frowns. ''The question is how many cars does this task guy have.''

Derek shrugs. ''My axiom is that mathematics doesn't make sense, so.''

Heather laughs and turns to Deaton for help.

 

Lydia's watching them training today. She's just sitting there, and it's still enough for Stiles to lose his focus.

As his eyes wander to the girl again, Derek punches him in the arm – hard.

''Get your mind back in the game, will you? You're nothing to her.''

''Once again, that's not your business.''

''You're on the team. You're making it my business. Look,'' he starts before Stiles can respond, ''you're bad at sports, not ugly, but not handsome either, and just plain _weird_.'' Derek locks eyes with him. ''She is not, and won't ever be interested.''

Stiles' mouth thins but he refuses to give up. ''I'm way more intelligent compared to Jackson.''

''She doesn't care. And anyway, she's still more intelligent than you.''

''He won't ever catch up to h-''

A shrilling sound of Finstock's whistle interrupts him and they start jogging to escape coach's yelling.

Derek turns to Stiles again. ''She doesn't need Jackson to ca-''

''And just how do you know that?'' stops him Stiles, angry.

''I can see that much.''

''Can you?'' shoots Stiles, glaring at him. ''I thought you had just looks and muscles going for you.''

It's an obvious dig at Derek, not even worth replying to, but it still hurts that Stiles, too, considers him to be a mindless jock.

He narrows his eyes and states in a cold, lower voice, ''I can be smart as well when I need to.''

''You'd never beat me.''

''I _would_.''

Stiles' eyebrows rise as he keeps looking at Derek, his posture changing. ''I dare you to beat me in chess. Three days from now, cause you probably don't even know how to play that game.''

''Deal,'' agrees Derek at once just to see Stiles' surprise.

He regrets it as soon as they shake their hands.

 

It's just a game. People are playing it for thousands of years. He knows that there are black and white pawns, a king, a tower, and a horse?, and that you have to beat the king to win?, so it's fine.

 

Derek hesitates, climbing up the stairs. He's not that close to Peter, has been feeling as if he's kind of inadequate, too dumb, not enough compared to him, especially after Paige – but knows there is no one else he could ask for help.

''Hey,'' starts Derek just to freeze in surprise. Peter looks so different – and okay, he hasn't really paid attention to him in a while, but Peter gazes at his phone with a smile, an open book and a cup of hot tea next to him. He seems calm, soft. ''Uh. Can you teach me how to play chess?''

Peter turns to him, mildly surprised. ''Why?'' he asks after a second.

Derek looks away, trying to come up with a good enough reason without giving too much away. ''Because I want to show that I don't have just muscles.''

He flushes after a beat, embarrassed. Peter only eyes him and suddenly Derek has a feeling he's read a lot more into the reply than Derek wanted.

''Of course.''

 

A paper ball hits Stiles' back.

Stiles slowly turns, squinting at Derek, suspicious, and bends to take it from the floor.

 _There is something in your hair,_ it reads.

Still distrustful, Stiles eyes him and Derek tries to keep his face as innocent as possible. Seconds pass and Stiles struggles, hesitates, flexes his hands, but finally gives in and reaches to his hair, combing it with his fingers.

Obviously, he can't find anything.

''Yes, Stilinski, your hairdo's great and your boyfriend appreciates it, now focus on our strategy for the upcoming game,'' snaps Finstock.

Stiles glares at him and then at Derek, and yes, his cheeks are reddening again.

 

''Stilinski-'' Derek stops, seeing the boy shirtless. ''You can't change yet,'' he says, trying to look away from the pale skin. Stiles' nipples are hard even though it's not that cold, and pink enough to notice against his ch-

He clears his throat. ''Finstock wants you to run ten laps around the field.''

''What,'' Stiles groans, pulling back on his shirt. ''It was your fault, Hale!''

''Then it's good that you can benefit from it.''

''Asshole,'' mutters Stiles. ''Why are you following me?''

''I actually care about my physical condition.''

Stiles smirks. ''Finstock made you run ten laps as well, huh?''

Derek doesn't answer and it's enough for Stiles to accept it as the truth.

''How is your chess-playing coming?''

''This game's so stupid,'' Derek grimaces. ''The moves of a horse are fucked up.''

''A _horse_?'' asks Stiles, incredulous. ''You mean the knight?''

''Whatever. I tried to look up different tactics and the code they are written in doesn't make any sense.''

''Maybe because it's a code,'' says Stiles, exasperated.

''I tried to make an effort-''

''If you'd tried to make an effort, you'd actually get it.''

Derek turns to him, annoyed, and Stiles smirks at him – again. He can see as Stiles opens his mouth to exhale and takes a breath, then licks his lips quickly-

''Just kiss already,'' Finstock rolls his eyes as they're passing him by. ''Two more laps to give you time to reconcile!''

 

''You just have to focus,'' repeats Peter calmly. ''Is it for a girl?'' he asks, his voice still level.

Derek tenses, tries to appear unaffected, his eyes locked on the board. ''No.''

Even this feels like admitting too much.

Peter just nods, though. ''Good luck tomorrow.''

 

He doesn't know which figure to move and ends up pushing his pawn, doesn't realize it's in the way of Stiles' tower ( _it's a rook_ , hisses Stiles, offended). Derek overlooks simple things – doesn't see the bishop, forgets about the queen.

Stiles wins.

Neither of them knows what does it mean. They forgot to decide on the rules beforehand.

 

Paige smiles at him, trying to mask that she's actually worried about meeting his family.

''Derek said you're attending some music club,'' remembers Peter.

''Yes, I'm playing the cello.''

''It's just reading the notes. Not that hard,'' shrugs Derek, trying to draw her into a banter so that she'd relax.

''Says a guy running around the field with a white stick,'' she replies, turning to him.

''Lacrosse is about strategy, we have to follow the rules and plan our moves-''

''Strategy, rules, moves,'' interrupts Paige, ''sounds like chess.''

Derek shoots her an annoyed look.

''Chess is a sport too,'' she smiles sweetly.

Peter seems to agree with her, smirking at Derek.

 

''So, the rules-''

''We're not playing on time,'' interrupts Derek at once.

''Fine,'' Stiles agrees with a long-suffering sigh. ''But you can't spend more than 5 minutes thinking about the next move. Scott can check the time, right?''

Scott nods, keeping his eyes on Derek. The guy doesn't seem to like him.

''Plus,'' adds Stiles, not letting Derek speak, ''if I win, which let's be honest here, of course I will,'' he smirks and Derek automatically narrows his eyes, ''then you have to introduce me to Lydia _and_ help me become her boyfriend or at least her friend.''

_Lydia again._

''I told you she won't ever acknowledge you.''

''And guess what? I still don't care what _you_ think.''

Derek grimaces. ''Okay. If I win,'' he pauses, realizing he hasn't thought about that. There is something about Stiles, though, that pulls him in. He's just a teenager, a nerd with a pathetic crush on the school's most popular girl, yet Derek finds himself paying him attention. Stiles probably thinks he's an asshole, still, and wouldn't spend time with him if he had a choice-

_oh._

''I want you to teach me how to play chess,'' he says. It's not that bad of an excuse.

Stiles blinks at him, surprised. ''What,'' he says dumbly, staring at Derek. Then the words finally reach him, and he opens his mouth to hurriedly assure, ''I mean, sure! Teaching you how to play chess, okay, I can do that, no problem. I won't, though, cause I'll win,'' he tries to grin and turns around shooting a glance to startled Scott, and they walk away.

 

''She's smart,'' says Peter _apropos_ of nothing as Derek enters the kitchen after his run.

''Yeah.''

Derek fiddles with a teaspoon, waiting for the water to boil. He flushes after a beat, realizing that Peter didn't necessarily mean Paige.

''How did your mathematics' test go?''

''Ah, could be better,'' Derek huffs out a laugh. ''I'll have to take it again.''

Peter doesn't seem surprised and doesn't answer.

A beat of silence.

But it's not like it's – _connected_ , right? Paige is smart, and Derek's more of a sports type of person, but that's separate. It's just, Paige, and him. Different people, different things. It doesn't mean he's _stupid_ -

he frowns and takes the tea to his room, ignoring Peter's look of disdain at his drink.

He knows he'll end up drawing. He kind of hates himself for it.

 

They agree on another match on Monday, so Derek has an entire weekend to focus on chess, to ignore his homework and to forget about Stiles.

He does focus on playing chess, but can't ignore mathematics homework, remembering the look Deaton kept on giving him during the class, and can't forget Stiles as there is something – someone kneeling before him and taking his length, deeper, before he tugs on surprisingly short hair to get the person to take even more-

Stiles looks up at him, shooting him a glare, before obediently sinking in, licking-

Derek wakes up covered in sweat.

 

Stiles smirks at him as Derek realizes he can't make any move, indicating Stiles' victory. He can only imagine what he'd do with this smirk, forcing Stiles to take his-

he closes his eyes briefly and makes a face.

''Another round?'' asks Stiles.

Derek looks up at him and agrees immediately before Stiles can backtrack.

This time, he doesn't let his mind wonder. Of course, he can still see Stiles' long fingers as they are moving the pawns, the way he narrows his eyes, observing the board and his fucking smirk as he knocks off another one of Derek's figures, which really makes Derek want to do something – violent – to him.

He breathes in, checks each and every move a couple of times, making Stiles impatient, jittering and groaning to do something finally, checking the time on Scott's phone-

and he wins.

Derek actually wins.

 

''I hate English,'' groans the guy next to him as they are waiting for the class to begin.

''Not as much as I hate maths,'' replies Derek.

''That's just because Jennifer helps you with English.''

What was his name again? Tom?

Derek smiles and doesn't deny it.

The guy punches his arm lightly as the teacher comes. ''Congratulations on becoming the lacrosse team's captain,'' he says, grinning, and walks inside the classroom.

 

Stiles shrinks even lower, almost gagging on his cock. Derek keeps staring at Stiles, his fingers in Stiles' hair, slowly but surely moving him closer. Stiles chokes and leans back to take a harsh breath, then quickly returns, moaning as Derek's length touches his throat again.

Derek takes a step back, his cock leaving the mouth with a wet sound, to look at Stiles properly. He can only notice his red lips as Stiles pants, and drags his finger on the lower one. Then, with a sudden impulse, he strikes Stiles with an open hand on his cheek.

Seeing the red mark, he takes a breath, impossibly turned on, drawing Stiles to his cock again. Without warning, he goes in deep, keeping Stiles there, can see as Stiles' eyes get teary and lets him go, just for Stiles to moan brokenly and come back deep again, willingly, even as Derek knows, somehow, that Stiles could leave anytime he wants, he could stop, but doesn't, instead taking more and more of Derek's cock until he comes. Stiles swallows some of the cum, the rest spilling from his mouth and Derek goes down immediately, kneeling before Stiles to kiss him, lick the rest of the come of his face-

the sheets are stained.

 

He sits at lunch, not quite eating his meal, lost in thoughts. He's definitely dreamt about Stiles, in a way that's-

well, it's rather obvious what it meant as long as he doesn't think that it's _Stiles._

''Hale,'' snaps Lydia, looking at him, ''you okay?''

He raises his head, surprised. Lydia can't be actually worried, she wouldn't be because of him. Derek figures she sits with him at the table and comes to the parties, meets with him as a consequence of meeting with the others because he's popular enough. They don't disturb each other, don't really _bother_ with each other, and it's okay. It's clear, simple this way.

''I'm fine,'' he replies automatically, looking away.

Stiles gives him a meaningful glance sitting down next to him, Scott on his other side.

Derek freezes for a second, suddenly seeing the boy this close and in reality. But – honestly – _it's just Stiles_. The weird guy crushing on Lydia, because who else would he be crushing on than the school's most popular girl when he's a pathetic nerd.

That's it.

''Lydia, this is Stiles.''

''Hi,'' she says, indifferent to Stiles' wide smile and his dumb little wave.

''We're both in a math club, you know?'' the boy says.

''Really,'' she comments flatly.

''Yeah. And you could've seen me during the training, I'm on a lacrosse team.''

''Unfortunately,'' mutters Derek under his breath.

Stiles shoots him a glare before focusing his attention on Lydia again.

Derek sighs. ''Stiles' good at chess,'' he offers.

Lydia still doesn't give a fuck.

''He's a nerd, so you may like him.''

Lydia raises her eyebrows, staring at him.

''He means I'm smart,'' Stiles pushes in hurriedly.

''Yeah, that,'' agrees Derek before quietly adding, ''but you're still pathetic.''

Stiles turns to him, hissing, ''Can you just – actually help?''

''I've introduced you two.''

''You said I'm a nerd!''

Derek gives him an exasperated look.

''Fine,'' shoots Stiles, grimacing and turns to Lydia again, but now the girl's focused on Allison, shocked.

Stiles and Derek gaze at the dark-haired girl as well, seeing her faint blush and a sweet smile as she glances at _Scott,_ immersed in a conversation with him.

Lydia slowly turns to Jackson, still taken aback, and Stiles, after the first surprise passes, mutters, ''I guess Scott can help me if you don't.''

Derek manages to keep his face blank.

 

''What are you playing now?''

''Debussy's _Images for orchestra_.''

Peter arches his eyebrow. ''Debussy? Aren't his compositions the ones where you can find the Fibonacci numbers?''

Paige smiles in answer, enthusiastic. ''Yeah, that's him! It's amazing. I'd like to play his _Sonata for cello and piano_ one day.''

''That could be quite challenging for you if you were to play the cello.”

''I'd be fine. If it's for Debussy, I would work really hard to get it right.''

''You like his works?''

''He's one of my favorites. What about you, Derek?'' she asks suddenly, turning to the boy. ''Do you like Claude Debussy?''

''Uh,'' Derek halts, feeling like he'll disappoint her, and he's already lost in the conversation, ''I don't really listen to classical music.''

 

Of course he has a fucking face-off with Stiles. He grips his crosse tighter and tries to ignore the boy, until their shoulders press together, fighting for the ball. If he can just get this damned thing under his stick and flick it to Jackson-

Stiles pushes in and Derek automatically looks up, just to be met with his brown eyes, focused on him, they are _close_ , way too cl-

Derek elbows Stiles' stomach to distract him( _self_ ) and passes the ball to Jackson. Stiles loses his balance – Derek was too rough, was trying to shake off the feeling of Stiles this close – and the boy falls to the ground, his breath caught.

Derek can't stop the glare he sends to Stiles, breathing harshly-

_pathetic fucking pathetic_

-and can see Scott running over to them. Before he kneels next to Stiles, Scott gives Derek a look that freezes him in place.

He jerks, hearing the sound of Finstock's whistle and grimaces, heading to the penalty box. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Allison's watching them today, so Scott'll score and release Stiles soon enough.

The blaring, obnoxious sound doesn't stop though and he frowns, turning around to look at the coach. Finstock's eyes meet Derek's, bearing into them as he continues to blow his whistle furiously, pointing at Stiles, now standing up with Scott's help.

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

He comes back to Stiles to apologize to him, remembering coach's speech mentioning companionship today.

Like, companionship, and healthy sports rivalry and friendship and struggling who gives a fuck it's all shit anyway-

he is pathetic.

 

Stiles fiddles with his shirt's string and licks his lips, nervous.

Derek would ask him what's the matter, but his silence seems to disturb Stiles even more, so he just goes on staring at the boy.

''S'good time, you know?'' Stiles blurts out suddenly. ''If you have, that is.''

Derek raises his eyebrow looking at him.

Stiles makes a face and whips out his arms gesturing grandly at the chess case.

Derek has the dumbest urge to agree at once and sit down before Stiles changes his mind. He stops himself, though, and manages to say ''Right,'' as-if disaffected, unhurriedly walking to sit down across from Stiles.

They play.

He forgets Stiles' king is there, and earlier his tower, or a rook, however-you-call-this-shit moved this way – Derek will lose.

His mouth tightens and he moves his horse (Yes-His-Horse), the quick motion making him graze Stiles' hand with his nail.

Stiles sucks in a breath.

''Sorry-''

Derek looks up and sees Stiles' lips slightly parted, his gaze unfocused as he stares at the small cut.

He blinks, quickly glances away to the left, then back at Stiles.

Scoffs.

''Why the _fuck_ are you blushing?''

 

''I told you, you suck at attacks.''

''Oh, fuck off. The game wasn't bad-''

''Yeah, the game was fine 'cause Scott was doing your job.''

''And guess whose strategy did he use? _Mine._ ''

''Too bad that's the only thing you're moderately good at.''

''Did you forget the last time I defended and we won?''

''Then why won't you stick to defense?''

Stiles laughs suddenly and Derek turns to him.

''You've made a pun and didn't even realize it,'' he rolls his eyes. ''Obviously. _Stick_ , get it?''

''That's not funny.''

Stiles laughs again at his expression and Derek, having enough of Stiles making fun of him, grips the back of his neck and shoves him forward, surprising Lydia sitting across from them.

''Why won't you try charming Lydia with that sense of humor?'' asks Derek.

It's the last thing he wants.

Stiles glares at him, angry that Lydia sees him in such situation, his cheeks pink already.

Derek slowly loosens his grip, finally just his fingertips touching the boy's skin. It's so _pale_ , every mole and beauty mark is noticeable, prominent.

He lingers a second too long. Catches Lydia's assessing glance from above her phone.

Derek tugs Stiles' hair, moving his head violently downwards, almost causing Stiles to land with his face in his food. ''Eat your lunch, idiot, it's gone almost cold.''

 

Derek drinks Stiles' coke cause it's there and he wants it.

Stiles gets flustered which just makes Derek smirk.

''Fucker,'' mutters Stiles under his breath, taking the money Derek's offered for another can and stands up. Derek arches his eyebrow and stops him, placing his hand on Stiles' elbow.

''You said something?''

''Nothing.''

''Thought so,'' replies Derek and unhurriedly lets Stiles go, his nails grazing Stiles' forearms.

Stiles doesn't turn fast enough for Derek not to see his blush.

One day, he'll have to draw that, the way Stiles' blush spreads from his cheeks to his ears, down his neck – and probably lower. Maybe even this evening. The effect would be great if he painted, but painting's messy, so just a sketch would do for now. He could use the crayons for a bit of color for Stiles' lips and eyes-

later. He'll think about it later, not _here_ , not at _school_.

 

He's almost awake now, in this hazy state somewhere between the dream and reality. Drags his sheets upwards, the motion causing the material to slide on his body. It's nice, a simple pleasure. He moves again, sighing quietly as he can feel the slide on his length. He reaches lower with his hand, touching himself without hurry.

There was this porn he saw recently. He clicked on it pretty much for the woman's breasts, ended up focusing on the guy, how weird is that-

_unless he is gay but he can't be even if Stiles – still, Paige – it just doesn't make sense_

The way she stroke the man with the black, leathered whip, leaving the marks, his skin angry red-

if his complexion was paler, it would be even more visible. The abused area would feel so sensitive when touched, if he could drag his hand slowly upwards, to the mouth, feeling the pink lips stretching around his fingers, the other hand tightening around Stiles' long neck-

he stops moving at once. His cock is painfully hard now, but he manages to just lay there for a while as he freaks out-

even if there is not much to freak out about.

It's just him, anyway. He doesn't have to tell that to anyone. Everyone has weird thoughts, sometimes, right-

And Stiles – whatever. It will go away.

But for now, if he could just take his mind off Lydia. If he could be honest for once instead of causing Stiles pain to hide how he actually feels, just focus all his attention on himself, _make Stiles_ _pay attention to nothing else but him-_

his sheets are dirty again.

 

''Lydia, did you know that Fibonacci's sequence we talked about yesterday comes up in the works of different composers, like Bartok, Debussy, and even Michael Jackson?''

Derek freezes.

''Yes,'' Lydia replies simply.

''Our music group is actually playing Debussy now,'' Allison speaks up.

''Amazing!'' Stiles grins at her. ''Do you think we could listen to you guys playing?''

''I guess it'd be okay. We meet on Thursdays at 4 p.m.''

Derek glances at Jackson, hoping he'd say that he's no time for this crap, but he doesn't seem bothered by the prospect.

''There is actually more stuff like this,'' says Stiles. ''For example, in _Quarter for the End of Time_ you can find primary numbers. It's incredible how music connects with mathema-''

Derek stands up, interrupting him.

''You okay, dude?''

He turns to walk away, but Stiles grabs his forearm. ''Derek, what's wr-''

Derek pulls out his hand sharply and grips Stiles' wrist, bending so that their heads are on the same level, almost touching.

''Don't _fucking_ touch me,'' he hisses, glaring at the boy before his eyes drop down to Stiles' pink lips, just as his tongue wets them-

he straightens and walks away.

 

The melody's the same.

 _It's not you_ , she said, _but it's not me, either. It's just – we don't really work, you know?_

Derek didn't.

_We're too different._

_But – what do you mean?_ , he asked, not wanting to see where this was going.

 _I like this_ , said Paige holding her cello. _You like lacrosse. I don't get this game, you don't get music, or mathematics, or the stuff I tell you about. It's not a bad thing_ , she assured hurriedly.

It must've been, though. She's broken up with him.

''Jesus, Derek, you look like you've seen a ghost,'' Stiles speaks up quietly.

He doesn't answer.

''Come on, we'll get something to drink.''

They go out and the almost silence on the corridor, or at least the absence of _Images pour orchestre_ calms him down a bit. It was some time ago. It shouldn't matter anymore. Paige's in a different school anyway, focusing on her music and other stuff Derek's shit at.

''Here,'' Stiles gives him a tea.

''Thanks,'' he mutters, somewhat surprised and almost takes a sip before Stiles stops him.

''No, no, it's for Lydia.''

''Lydia likes green tea?''

''Crap,'' sighs Stiles. ''I thought I've chosen coffee. Guess you can have it.''

Derek drinks slowly, watching as Stiles buys himself a can. He opens it, hurting his thumb in the way, grimaces and tilts his head to swallow the drink. His Adam's apple keeps moving and Derek gazes at it as if hypnotized.

Stiles stopped drinking but his neck moves again as he swallows, nervous. Finally, Derek looks up and sees Stiles just staring at him now, his eyes wide and unsure.

''Let's just – go back,'' he blurts finally in a slightly changed voice and Derek nods, not bothering to think of any excuse for his behavior.

 

''Why would I go with you?''

''Not my idea, okay? Lydia said we should all go together.''

''Why.''

''Apparently, she's sure we want to date.''

'' _What_.''

''I know, right? _The irony_. And I told her our only cute nicknames are asshole, idiot, and fucker-however-not-that-way, but she dismissed that as pulling pigtails.''

''We're in high school.''

''That's what I said! And she just looked at me with this, I dunno, _compassion_.''

 

It doesn't look like a triple date. It can't, because Stiles and Derek are both guys, right, and they are normal. Besides, only Jackson and Lydia actually date here. Considering Stiles and Derek, at least theoretically, want them to break up it's all really weird. Plus, Scott and Allison aren't together. Derek has no idea what's stopping them – probably something sweet and adorable.

He is sitting across Lydia and Jackson, half-heartedly listening to their conversation as he's waiting for Stiles to come back from buying something to drink.

''We should go shopping later,'' suggests Jackson.

''Right, you wanted to buy this deep carmine shirt.''

''Yes.''

'' _Deep_ carmine shirt, not the carmine one.''

''Yes,'' repeats Jackson, slightly annoyed. ''Look, I didn't say anything when you bought yourself a handbag which you've used for 3 hours and won't ever take with yourself again.''

''I could use it again.''

''You won't, it's not in your style.''

''So you know my style now?''

''Of course I do,'' shrugs Jackson. ''I see you every day.''

Lydia doesn't answer and just gazes at him with a soft smile.

Derek looks away. Lydia's expression dims to an indifferent one as soon as Stiles comes back, though.

And, _huh, that makes sense_. He's assumed that Lydia almost doesn't speak up to Scott and Stiles because they aren't quite as popular, but it may well be because of Stiles' crush. He's never thought how uncomfortable it could make Lydia feel.

Stiles puts down his milkshake on the table and without a pause, Derek reaches for it to drink half of it in one go.

''You should've taken the chocolate one,'' he says, putting the cup back.

Stiles stares at him, disbelieving.

''Jackson and Lydia want to go shopping later,'' Derek adds to the blow.

Stiles groans, sitting down next to him.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him. ''You sure about that?'' With a sudden impulse, he puts his hand on Stiles' knee. ''Those jeans seem rather worn,'' he comments, riding his fingers higher up. ''There is even an abrasion on your knee,'' he continues, this time his hand sliding down, then even lower to touch the bare skin on Stiles' knee. ''Maybe we should look for new ones.''

''I- not really-'' Stiles chokes out, his eyes on where Derek's touching him.

''Okay.'' Derek nods once, seemingly calm, and takes his hand back. ''Wanna escape?''

It takes a minute for Stiles to answer. ''I can't leave Scott like that.''

''Scott'll be happy as long as he's with Allison.''

''Oh, right. That's true.'' Stiles licks his lips, thinking about the offer. Finally, he looks up at Derek with an unreadable expression. ''Yeah. Okay.''

He stands up to clap Scott on arm and talks with him for a moment. Derek exchanges simple nods with Lydia – it's enough for them.

''So? Where do you want to go?''

''I'd like to see some new CDs.''

''Okay, then books.''

''Maybe a sport's store later on.''

 _And the art's store_ , he can't help but think. The watercolors he's seen on the display were beautiful.

''And to finish it off, an arcade,'' suggests Stiles.

_Right. Not the time._

''5 games of air hockey at least.''

''Make it 10,'' grins Stiles.

He's way too happy about winning 9 out of 15 they've played.

Derek buys them ice cream as they are coming back home, the sun already setting.

''How much do I owe you?''

''Nothing. I've drunk half of your milkshake earlier, remember?''

''Ah. Right.''

''You have a third scoop and a chocolate scone.''

Stiles looks at him, astonished. ''Why?'' he asks, eyes wide open, way too apprehensive.

''You've won in the air hockey,'' Derek reminds him flatly.

Stiles blinks in surprise and quickly turns his head, clumsily dirtying his cheek with some ice cream.

Derek huffs out a laugh and takes the smudge off with his hand, automatically licking his fingers clean.

Stiles looks at him, suddenly appearing vulnerable, but it feels different this time. The whole afternoon feels different, like a date, and that must be why Derek places his now clean fingers to Stiles' cheek as if making sure there is nothing more left.

Then, he takes back his hand, turns and eats his own ice cream like nothing's happened.

They are almost at Stiles' home when the boy asks, ''You had a girlfriend, right?''

Derek nods, not looking at him.

''What happened to her?'' Stiles asks carefully.

''She decided to go to a different school.''

''Um. I'm sorry.''

Derek shakes his head. ''It's better for her.''

Stiles looks up at him. ''Well, is it better for you?''

Derek doesn't answer, staring at the crumpled napkin from the ice cream and forces his hands to stop moving. Shrugs. ''I'll see you on Monday,'' he says finally, turns, and leaves before Stiles can do anything. He is walking fast even though he doesn't have to worry about coming back home on time, Peter's always been lax about this stuff.

 

''Wow, what a dumb mistake,'' comments Stiles, eyeing Derek's math test.

Derek makes a move to hide it, but Stiles is faster and keeps Derek's forearm still in his hand.

'' _Woah_ , what's with this task, you're an idiot,'' he says, laughing now.

Derek doesn't answer.

''Come on, have you been listening at all when Deaton was explaining the primary numbers?''

Derek hasn't. He was too tired with the lacrosse practice back then. He's just become the team's captain.

 

''How did it go?'' asks Peter. ''Does he consider you intelligent enough?''

Practice makes perfect. Derek manages to keep his face blank. ''No.''

Peter hums. ''Do you want to play chess?'' he asks after a beat.

''Okay.''

He has no idea why he's agreed. He's losing already.

''The question is, is he worth it?'' says Peter, knocking off Derek's bishop.

It's sad how clear the answer is, especially after it-could-not-have-been-a-date.

''Yes,'' replies Derek quietly.

 

''Just for one game, Derek, come on,'' whines Stiles.

''No way. You're in defense.''

''But I want to try being a midfielder, just for today-''

''Like you've tried being an attackman?'' interjects Jackson.

''Leave us alone, Whittemore,'' shoots Derek, not even looking at him.

''I'm just saying that if Stilinski wants to play the way he attacks-''

'' _Leave_ ,'' Derek interrupts him.

Jackson frowns at him, not understanding.

''Young love,'' sighs Finstock, observing them.

 

''So, uh,'' starts Stiles and grimaces, ''I think Lydia doesn't really like me.''

Derek rolls his eyes.

''Yeah, you don't have to be an asshole about it,'' replies Stiles immediately.

''Of course she doesn't like you. You hitting on her makes her uncomfortable.''

Stiles doesn't seem happy about it, actually winces but nods. ''So I was thinking,'' he glances at Derek, ''maybe we could make a project for mathematics together.''

That sounds great. Derek really needs something to improve his grades in math, and spending more time with Stiles by the way-

''It would be about Fibonacci's sequence, Lydia seems interested in that. I only need you to be there so that she'll agree because she won't make a project just with me,'' finishes Stiles with a self-deprecating smile.

_I only need you to be there so that she'll agree_

''You won't have to do much, okay?'' says Stiles hurriedly, seeing his expression. ''Really, Lydia and I will take care of it.''

Right. It's not like Derek can contribute to the project itself.

''I mean, I can do the research, and Lydia's great with editing and putting together the information, and you won't have to do the presenta-''

''Why would you do that,'' interrupts Derek, hating Stiles' assurances, his voice cold.

''Uh – it's for Lydia, okay?''

''What do you mean, _for Lydia,_ '' he repeats.

''I just want to try to be friends with her.''

Derek scoffs. ''Yeah, right.''

''What – really! I won't be hitting on her if she so clearly doesn't want it,'' Stiles gazes at him, making Derek avert his eyes.

''I'm just asking you, okay? As a friend.''

''We're not friends,'' Derek blurts out, loathing the way he sounds. ''I'm not going to help you with this-'' he pauses and tightens his lips, angry. ''We're not _anything_ ,'' he states finally and walks away.

 

Stiles ignores him at lunch the next day, talking with Scott (glaring at Derek) and Allison (making unhappy faces when Stiles doesn't see).

Derek is regretting everything. The guilt makes it easier for him to pathetically glance at Stiles and, putting on an I-don't-care-either-way mask, he asks, ''Chess practice?''

Stiles turns to him, incredulous. ''Are you fucking serious?'' He lets out a disbelieving laugh. ''No, I just – barely yesterday you've told me that _we're not anything_ , and now you ask me about-'' he stops, glaring at Derek. ''What the fuck?''

His face completely blank, Derek bulldozers on. ''We had an agreement-''

''Oh, _fuck you_ ,'' spits Stiles. ''No. No, you know what? Scott's right. I don't have to deal with your shit. Just – leave me alone,'' he shoots.

Then, Stiles gives Derek a dirty look and leaves the table, and Derek' left with Scott's challenging eyes.

He turns away.

 

''Scott, Jackson, you go to attack. Stiles, you'll be defending,'' states Derek, relieved when his voice comes out clear, without breaking.

Stiles just nods, stands up and goes to Scott without a single glance at Derek. Scott sends him a quick, cold glare.

''Silent days, huh?'' asks Finstock, slinging his arm around Derek. ''We've all been through it,'' he says consolingly.

 

Derek has never before realized how alone he actually is. There is no one now to cheer him up and take his mind off stuff – Stiles was the closest to being his friend.

He still spends lunches with Lydia and Jackson (together), Scott and Allison (finally, _finally_ dating), and Stiles (as alone as ever, but now with a twist of ignoring Derek).

When Scott and Allison giggle about something and Stiles argues with Jackson about lacrosse, Lydia sits across Derek and eyes him for a moment.

''Look,'' she starts finally, ''I don't know what happened between you guys, but Stiles won't be the first one to make up. It's a matter of honor to him,'' she adds, her eye roll clearly showing how highly she thinks of said honor.

''You've been talking with Stiles?''

''Yeah, we're doing a project for mathematics together.''

Remembering Stiles' idea, Derek's too late to mask his reaction. Lydia frowns, then a realization dawns on her face and she scoffs at him.

''You really are an idiot,'' she decides, shaking her head. ''Stiles isn't in love with me, not anymore. But anyway, I wanted to tell you that it's you that have to do something now to get Stiles back.''

''I've never had him in the first place.''

Lydia just raises her eyebrows at him in the answer and Derek looks away.

''I – you didn't have to tell me that,'' he adds tentatively.

''Of course I didn't,'' agrees Lydia. ''But I did because you're my friend.''

She turns to Jackson to end his argument with Stiles and leaves Derek in shock.

 

Everyone's looking at him. He refuses to feel out of place and waits for Deaton.

The people keep on eyeing him as he enters the classroom and sits down at the free desk.

''Derek,'' starts Deaton carefully, ''this is mathematics club.''

''Yes,'' agrees Derek.

''Are you sure you want to join us?''

''Yes.''

''Can I ask why?''

''Different reasons,'' replies Derek without blinking an eye. ''Why?'' he asks now. ''I thought I could join whichever school club I wanted for whatever reason?''

Deaton doesn't reply and gives him a sheet of paper with the tasks.

Derek very carefully doesn't look at Stiles.

 

''Stiles gives you 3 meetings top,'' Lydia informs him.

Derek nods. _Challenge accepted._

 

''Hey man,'' calls Matt with a smile. When he comes closer, they exchange a high-five. Derek's not sure anymore where the tradition came from – it's just something he does with Matt as a greeting.

Going with the flow of the students, Matt's almost on the other end of the corridor when he turns around and shouts, ''Good luck with the game!''

Derek huffs out a laugh and raises his hand in acknowledgment. Matt's always so loud.

 

Lydia and Jackson aren't in the cafeteria yet. Derek realizes that too late, sitting at the table with Stiles (two free places between them), Scott (ignoring Derek), and Allison (shooting him apologetic glance).

He's just here to eat anyway.

''You know,'' starts Stiles and Derek immediately finds himself listening, ''there are different reasons for joining a school club. But _seeking attention_? That's just pathetic.''

Scott snorts and flicks his eyes to Derek as if checking if the words hurt him.

They did.

''I mean, sure, I didn't join the math club or the team for completely pure reasons as well,'' Stiles continues and shoots them a quick, sharp grin.

 _Lydia_ , realizes Derek. _It's always_ -

''But I actually make an effort. I'm definitely better at lacrosse now than I was at the beginning of the year.''

Scott nods, always the supportive friend.

''And math club is great, cause I get to know Lydia better. You know the best part about her?''

_Just eat. It's just lunch._

''She's honest. I don't have to wonder what that or this meant to her, she wouldn't lead me on just to dump on me the news of her ex-boyfriend.''

Scott's smile dims, the expression changing to a slight frown.

''And she's brilliant. A genius, really. I don't think I could teach her anything – rather, she'd have to teach me. She is so incredibly smart-''

Derek stands up abruptly and without looking at anyone, leaves the table, barely having touched his meal.

 

''Good job, Jackson. You were great with the attack,'' says Derek after the game, somewhat mindlessly. His face is clear as Jackson looks at him as if checking whether it's a joke. Derek watches him as well, waiting for his reaction, but it doesn't come.

Is this some kind of test? Jackson's one of the best players, of course Derek would commend him.

Finally, Jackson scoffs. ''Obviously,'' he replies and leaves.

 

''Derek,'' sighs Heather. He knows this sigh by heart now. ''You calculate stuff in the brackets first.''

''Right.''

''Don't worry,'' she smiles. ''I still think that your biggest achievement was that time when we were supposed to calculate a volume and you came up with a negative number.''

 

Derek's been in five meetings of math club. _Five._ He'd feel smug about it but he still doesn't get what they're doing there exactly.

Stiles waits now for the club as well, talking with Scott. Derek prepares himself for – he doesn't know what but Scott seems agitated and keeps on glancing at him. Finally, he steps in Derek's direction just for Stiles to keep him in place. Scott argues with him and in the end, Stiles reluctantly agrees.

Scott narrows his eyes at Derek and strides through the corridor to him. Derek does what he can do best now – keeps his face blank, devoid of any emotion.

''What don't you understand about leaving Stiles alone?'' asks Scott at once, angry.

''I don't talk with him.''

''We both know it's for him you're in math club-''

'' _No_ ,'' Derek cuts him off. ''I'm not here just for him.''

''Then for what?''

Derek feels like 'different reasons' is the perfect answer, but stops himself. ''For myself.''

Scott raises his eyebrows, disbelieving.

''Look, does Stiles really have a problem with me attending mathematics club?'' he asks, impatient.

Scott glares at him. ''No,'' he admits. Then, somewhat grudgingly, adds, ''I don't know what he sees in you.''

The world stops for a second as the words slowly reach Derek's mind.

''Me neither,'' he agrees quietly.

Scott's startled face is worth telling him the truth.

 

''You look terrible, Stilinski,'' says Jackson, eyeing Stiles with distaste.

''What are you talking about?''

''Your clothes.''

''I'm wearing the same stuff as always,'' frowns Stiles. ''Jeans, graphic tee and a plaid shirt.''

''That's the problem,'' nods Lydia.

''It's people like you that make me feel better about myself,'' adds Jackson.

Derek smiles slightly at that, even as he wishes he was back at the point where _he_ could tease Stiles.

''But – I dress like that every day,'' continues Stiles, exasperated.

''I'm not saying you should have the same style as Jackson,'' states Lydia, ''but look at Derek.''

Everyone turns to him just as Derek stares at Lydia, confused.

''Tight jeans and a t-shirt,'' she describes, then glances at Jackson. ''A t-shirt in a nice shade of color. You really don't need more.''

''Okay, that's a really bad argument,'' says Stiles. ''Anything looks good on Derek.''

This time everyone turns to Stiles, Derek's eyes widening because-

he may have a chance. He may still have a chance.

 

''Does someone have a pen?'' asks Stiles. ''Lydia?''

''Just a fountain pen. I don't trust you with it.''

''Oh, come on, it's just a pen.''

''Right, you just write with it. Like clothes, you _just_ wear them.''

''Well,'' Stiles pauses and looks at her, confused, ''yeah.''

Lydia sighs and shakes her head.

''A pen, anyone?''

As no one appears to hand Stiles anything, Derek stands up and leaves a pen on his table without looking at Stiles.

''Uh, thanks,'' the boy replies quietly.

 

Stiles and Lydia play a round of chess waiting for the math club. Derek joins the group watching the game, standing at the back.

Stiles narrows his eyes at the board, then at Lydia. ''I know you're doing something here,'' he states.

Lydia cocks an eyebrow at him.

Stiles frowns and shakes his head a bit. ''I _know_ you're doing something here.''

Derek waits for someone to point it out, but they just watch the board, talk amongst each other, a guy next to him checks his mobile.

''You're in zugzwang,'' he says.

It feels as if everyone turns to him. ''What?'' asks Greenberg.

''Lydia put Stiles in zugzwang. He has to move now, even though it'd be better for him to not move at all. Re1, he loses the tower. Bc4, he loses the bishop. Nd8, he endangers his king.''

Stiles narrows his eyes and nods. ''Well, it's still an honor to lose to you, Lydia,'' he says and shoots her a smile, then turns to Derek, his smile disappearing. ''And this,'' he says, lifting his tower, ''is a _rook_ ,'' he finishes and moves it across the board.

 

The math club hasn't started yet. The classroom is quiet, just two more students aside from him sitting on the other side, talking with each other.

Derek looks out of the window and is thrown for a second, admiring the sunset. The clouds are the fluffy, white-turning-gray ones, slowly moving across the sky. He turns the page in his notebook to sketch them, just for a while. People won't bother him, not here.

It's almost finished, he only needs to add a deeper shade to this cloud here, and Derek looks at the picture, satisfied.

''Oh wow,'' gasps Stiles behind him. Derek freezes. ''This is amazing!''

Derek moves his hand, fast, trying to hide the drawing. ''It's nothing,'' he mutters.

''No, wait, wait,'' Stiles stops him, holding the notebook open. ''I had no idea you could draw like this.''

''I was just doodling,'' says Derek. His face is burning.

''Doodling?'' Stiles lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. ''Come on, this is _beautiful_.''

''Just – forget about it.''

Stiles frowns at him, confused. It's enough to make Derek feel bad about his reaction and he softens.

''It's embarrassing,'' he says, quieter.

''What?''

''The drawing – it's just stupid.'' _God, this is awkward_. ''And I'm not that good anyway,'' he adds, annoyed.

Stiles frowns again and is about to reply, but Deaton comes in along with the rest of the students.

 

''Where do you live?''

Derek gives Stiles a side-eye. ''Do you plan to break into my house?''

''What? _No._ I'm just curious, how does your neighborhood look like?''

''You do plan to break into my house.''

''No, god,'' Stiles huffs out, the blush already appearing on his cheeks. ''You draw at your house, right? I was wondering how it looks like, you know. The whole thing.'' He pauses for a second and then turns to Derek, his face lightening up with a smile. ''Show me your room,'' he says. ''Today, after school. I want to see it.''

''And you just assumed I'd be fine with it,'' states Derek flatly.

Stiles stops walking and looks at him sweetly. ''Yes?''

It shouldn't have the effect it has on Derek.

His head propped on hand, he tries to understand whatever's on the blackboard, but wasn't this thing – with Stiles – supposed to leave by now? Shouldn't it get weaker? Why does he even care about this _nerd_?

A thousand answers appear in his head and he focuses back on Deaton's lesson immediately.

 

Peter's just leaving as they come in, of course.

''Uh.'' Somehow, Derek has a bad feeling about this. And they are almost in the house, almost there and free of Peter or anyone else, 'cause Laura isn't back yet. ''This is Stiles.''

''Good morning, um...''

''Peter, Derek's my nephew.'' Peter smiles slowly and eyeing Stiles, asks, ''Do you play chess?''

Yeah. This. Derek knew it.

''Yes,'' answers Stiles, surprised.

''I'd like to play with you sometime,'' says Peter before narrowing his eyes. ''I hope this is not a zugzwang.''

Stiles looks up at him, startled, and flushes, shaking his head. ''No, I-,'' he glances at Derek, ''I asked Derek to show me his draw-''

''Yeah, we should go,'' interrupts Derek, feeling his face growing hot as he recollects what a zugzwang is, and drags Stiles into the house.

As they enter his room, he suddenly remembers the portrait of Stiles he drew. It's hidden, of course, Stiles, Peter or Laura won't find it, but he can't get the thought of Stiles miraculously discovering it and turning to Derek in shock out of his head.

However, Stiles only looks through his other drawings, stopping at some to look at them more closely. When he lingers on one, Derek glances at him and realizes it's his drawing of Beacon Hills.

''It's amazing,'' smiles Stiles and turns the paper towards him.

Even from his spot on the bed, Derek can see some imperfections, some areas which he'd have drawn differently now, but he still likes it. This is Beacon Hills he sees – the small town with his house, his school, the preserve.

''Um,'' Stiles speaks up, ''do you think I could copy it?''

''Copy? Why?''

''I like it,'' shrugs Stiles. ''It'd be nice to have it in my room. You know,'' he shifts his weight, his cheeks pinkening, ''to look at it.''

_To look at it._

It may be the nicest thing Derek's heard about any of his drawings.

''You can take it,'' he says.

Stiles' eyes widen. ''Really?''

''Sure.''

Stiles looks at him for a second longer, then sits down next to him to put the drawing in his backpack. Straightening, he claps Derek on his back and grins, ''You're a great friend.''

Derek huffs out a laugh and looks at Stiles – his messy hair, friendly smile, brown eyes. His long fingers, pale neck, and pink lips. He looks at this nerd who plays chess and lacrosse, who snarks with him to cover his blush, who fell in love with the school's most popular girl and instead became friends with her.

In this moment, Derek could push further. Cover Stiles' hands with his and lean into Stiles, almost entrapping him with the wall behind. There'd be just inches between them, he would see as Stiles licks his lips, his eyes glancing between Derek's eyes and mouth – or Stiles could grimace and draw back – or he could shove Derek away and leave.

He has a chance now. He can make this right – at least try.

''You think we could be friends?''

''Yeah,'' replies Stiles and smiles at him. His eyes seem to change to gold in the sunset, his skin is pale as ever, dotted with moles, and he has a plaid shirt over a graphic tee and worn-out jeans, still.

Derek has no idea how he could ever think of him as _just_ Stiles. He is so much.

 

''I bought you a milkshake.''

Stiles stares at him, then at the cup. ''Scott, you try it.''

''What? Why?''

''It may be poisoned.''

''Why do you want me to drink it if it's pois-''

''It's not poisoned,'' interrupts Derek, scowling.

''Sure, that's what you'd say if you wanted me to drink it,'' says Stiles with raised eyebrows.

''I do want you to drink it,'' says Derek, confused.

''See?'' Stiles turns to Scott as if proving his point.

''I'm just being nice,'' Derek grits out.

He leaves when Stiles and Scott won't stop staring at him.

 

''There is a party this weekend,'' states Stiles.

Lydia narrows her eyes at him. ''How do you know this and I don't?''

Stiles smirks. ''I've got connections to the popular crowd now.''

''Yeah, I'm the popular crowd,'' says Lydia flatly.

''I told him,'' Allison speaks up. ''Heather, my friend from the music club organizes it.''

''You sure you want to go, Stiles?'' asks Lydia. ''We'll be dancing.''

Stiles narrows his eyes. ''Yes, I'm sure.''

''Just be careful not to hit 5 people nearby, knock off 3 glasses, trip and fall down.''

Stiles makes a face. ''Not my proudest moment,'' he admits.

''Do you have _any_ proud moments?'' asks Lydia.

'' _Cold_ ,'' he comments, turning to her. ''And I do. Like Derek telling me I'm good at defense in lacrosse.''

''I've never said that,'' Derek speaks up immediately, dumbly convinced that somehow the words will reveal how he feels about Stiles.

''Fine,'' Stiles rolls his eyes. ''You've _implied_ it. But I'll win one game in lacrosse. You just wait and see,'' he winks.

Derek forgets to react at first and just stares at the boy, then turns away quickly. ''No chance,'' he opposes weakly, somewhat belatedly.

''Well, you've said that getting Lydia as my friend was impossible, yet here we are,'' he beams. ''And it's thanks to you as well.''

''It's not.''

''It is,'' frowns Stiles. ''Firstly, it's thanks to you I'm sitting at this table now.''

''I've threatened you into sitting with me.''

Stiles chuckles dismissively even as Scott shoots Derek incredulous look. ''Secondly, you've introduced me to her.''

''I said you were a nerd.''

''...and I'm confident enough now to take it as a compliment,'' replies Stiles gracefully.

Derek scowls.

''Look, just take the credit,'' says Stiles.

_No thanks. Not for Lydia._

 

''Put more strength into the throws and hold your crosse lower, like that.'' Derek observes Stiles for a while, then adds, ''You just need to train some more. Actually, I wanted to stay behind today and practice. You want to join me?''

Stiles nods just as Finstock interjects. '' _Stay behind and practice_? Do you think I'm too old to know what that _actually_ means?''

Stiles chokes on nothing. Derek stares at the coach, frozen in spot, his cheeks heating.

''I'll be with them,'' says Scott.

Finstock eyes him critically. ''I hope you're not into threesomes.''

''What?'' Scott snaps his head to him, horrified. _''No!_ ''

The coach nods after a while. ''I trust you as a chaperone,'' he states seriously and leaves.

''I still don't like that,'' says Scott and turns to Derek. ''I still don't like _you_.''

''I don't blame you,'' replies Derek quietly.

Scott looks at him, frowning, then scoffs, shaking his head and leaves as well.

Stiles starts practicing his throws and Derek keeps returning the ball to him. After a while, Stiles forgets about his posture, though, and Derek comes up to change it again – and it's a training in self-discipline when he has Stiles this close, when he can see his neck, touch his broad arms and hips-

That's why he turns his back to Stiles when they change. He has a distinct feeling that Stiles is looking at him and can't help straightening, moving a little, flexing – it all can still pass as stretching after the training.

''Thanks for helping me,'' says Stiles after a while.

''No problem,'' says Derek, and states, yearning for the confirmation, ''We're friends.''

''Yeah,'' answers Stiles. His voice sounds different, odd, it feels like Stiles has something more to say, but Derek has a lot of feelings when it comes to Stiles, the glances – the flushes – the smiles and the snark, they all feel like something but it's just a feeling – when he _knows_ Stiles likes Lydia.

 

He is just standing there, drinking coke when a blonde girl approaches him with a confident smile. She almost plasters herself to him and Derek wants to back away, but at the last second catches Stiles looking at them – and lets the girl move closer.

''Wanna dance?'' she purrs. Actually purrs.

He nods and they start swaying.

For all the wandering hands of Erica, she doesn't seem focused on Derek but rather keeps on glancing away. She moves impossibly closer, turning to his face but still watching something behind him, and mutters ''Fucking finally.''

That's when Derek notices a black guy walking over to them and raises an eyebrow at the girl.

''Sorry,'' she says, not really apologetic.

Derek shrugs. ''I've done pretty much the same,'' he replies, glancing at Stiles, who's still watching him dancing with Erica.

''Oh, really? Who's the lucky girl?''

''It's a guy,'' he answers.

When Erica doesn't reply, he grimaces. He did want to shock her into silence, but really, there was no need to share this. ''If you're about to start-''

''So you're bisexual?''

He glances at her, surprised. She looks back, her face clear, simply interested.

Derek's eyebrows crease as he thinks about the question. He isn't straight, but he isn't homosexual either, so bisexual – if that's actually a thing – may fit. ''I guess.''

''Good to know someone else,'' she grins at him. ''I've kind of thought I was the only one, even though I knew it's not probable.''

''So you're bisexual as well?''

''I prefer thinking of myself now as pansexual.''

''Panse-'' Derek stops and frowns at her. ''What does that even mean?''

Erica looks at him oddly. ''What's with that reaction?''

Derek blinks and glances away. ''Sorry.''

''It means that I don't care about people's orientation or-''

''Hey,'' interrupts them the guy, shooting a quick glance at Derek. ''Dance?'' he suggests to Erica.

The girl grins at him and turns last time to Derek. ''See you later.''

He looks after them, kind of admiring how calm the guy was even when it's obvious how much he cares about Erica, taking her hand gently, gazing at her and softening at her smile. If someone was to dance with Stiles like that-

he turns to look at the boy. He is talking with Scott and Allison now but after a while glances in Derek's direction.

He turns away and goes outside to drink something and just pass the time. Some people come to talk with him, he recognizes Greenberg (he doesn't really care about the party), Heather (yeah, it's a nice evening), Matt (yeah, the crowd can be tiring) – he's not exactly responsive. Ends up pretty much dismissing them. Doesn't feel bad about it.

''Haven't seen you with your boy,'' smiles Erica, sitting down next to him.

Derek shrugs.

''You should ask him to dance. It's Stiles, right? He keeps looking at you.''

Derek turns to her and scoffs. ''I can't just ask him.''

''Why not?''

''I mean – _not here,_ '' he says, incredulous.

''Why not?'' repeats Erica. ''If you want to be with him, you'll have to make it public sooner or later.''

Derek looks somewhere ahead. Honestly, he hasn't thought that far. ''No,'' he shakes his head finally. ''All those people here-''

''They don't really matter, you know that. Does anyone else know about your crush?''

''Yeah.''

''Your friends? How many?''

''5 including you.'' 6 if Peter counts. Does he count? This is weird.

Erica makes a sound of surprise. ''That's more than I expected.''

Derek doesn't reply and Erica finally shrugs. ''Well, do whatever you want, but I'm on your side. You helped me get Boyd,'' she grins.

Derek smiles as well, but he's distracted. He'd like that, dancing with Stiles. To touch him, to keep him close. He's not entirely sure Stiles actually wants him back, though.

He sighs and stands up. Takes a few steps forward, away from the house. Glances down at the plastic cups laying around, always the sign of a party nearby, notices his jeans and shirt, remembers how much time he's spent wondering if they fall under the category of a good outfit in Lydia's mind and whether that means that Stiles will like it as well.

'' _Fuck,_ '' he breathes out. Turns around.

Comes up to Stiles.

 

''Hey,'' he starts, desperate not to show how much he cares. ''You want to dance?''

He ends up sounding cold and unfriendly.

''Um,'' Stiles pauses, looking at him, and this was such a bad idea. He won't agree, why would he? Derek has-

''Okay.''

Derek's eyes snap to his and he offers his hand, gently taking Stiles'. He turns to walk to the dance floor, avoiding Stiles' searching gaze.

Crap. He was so overwhelmed with asking Stiles if he wants to dance, he forgot about the music. There is something upbeat blasting from the speakers and Derek starts furiously thinking what should he-

the song suddenly stops, the crowd moaning at the loss. Derek turns to see what's going on and is met with Heather's grin and thumbs up as she starts playing a slow, heartfelt song.

He finally turns back to Stiles and takes him all in, stepping closer. Now, he can even put his hand on the boy's waist like that and has to lock his eyes with Stiles', can't look away.

They start swaying slowly and people are watching them, of course they are, they always are, but Stiles also gazes at him and it almost makes him feel like they are alone. He rearranges his hold on Stiles, suddenly becoming aware of how warm Stiles' body is, and spreads his hand. Stiles' lips part slowly and Derek keeps watching them, how pink they are, how soft they appear, how Stiles' tongue darts out to wet them-

the song ends.

Derek leans back, there were barely inches between them, and he wanted to kiss Stiles – was he going to kiss Stiles?

''Thanks,'' he says quietly as Stiles regards him and nods. Slowly, he lets go of Stiles' hand and leaves the dance floor, just to be stopped by Greenberg.

''What was that?'' he asks incredulous, but smiling, as if waiting for Derek to turn it into a joke. ''A dare? You lost a bet?''

Derek looks at him, searching for an answer, opens his mouth, gives up and walks away.

''You just danced with a _guy_.''

''Okay – but – that was weird.''

''Are you _gay_?''

Derek flinches and quickens his pace. The house is way too big, too crowded-

''What the fuck, he had a girlfriend, didn't he? So is he gay or not?''

He leaves the house, belatedly realizing he is shaking. He doesn't feel angry, or sad, or – this is such a mess.

Jesus, he has just come out.

 

 _We meet at my house today_ , reads the text from Lydia. Derek isn't sure how he even has her number. They've never called or texted each other before.

Derek: No.

Lydia: Stiles is here already.

All the more reason not to go there. He's left him all alone yesterday. It was a sort of coming out for him as well.

Derek: No.

And hey, he is actually doing a favor for Stiles here, leaving them alone in her house.

He closes his eyes briefly.

Derek: Is he okay?

Lydia: I'm not his therapist, Derek.

Soon after, he receives Stiles' number.

Derek looks at the digits. Memorizes them.

Puts his phone away and stands up to walk around the room. He sits back on his bed, drawn to the phone and Stiles' number in it. Frowns at the screen when none of the texts he comes up with sounds right.

He's left Stiles on his own yesterday. No wonder nothing feels right, he has left Stiles alone to deal with this mess.

Derek turns off his phone and spends the whole afternoon sketching the trees in the preserve, trying to forget himself in the drawings.

 

He sees Matt on Monday and looks at him for a while – Matt doesn't really look back, turns to someone passing by and jokes, then glances at Derek, looks away, punches another guy walking by, saying something with a sharp grin.

Derek is close now, he needs to decide – he raises his hand.

Matt stares at him for a moment. ''What do you think you're doing, you _fag?_ '' he asks, his voice cold and loud. Derek can see people around them shushing down and observing them.

''Leave me alone,'' Matt adds, disgusted. He turns and walks away. After a second, Derek realizes his hand is still in mid-air as he keeps looking after him and takes it down, starts moving again, his face blank.

He should've been prepared for it. Something like that was bound to happen – even if he didn't expect exactly Matt to suddenly hate him. He knew there'd be someone, but Matt-

Lost in thoughts, he almost doesn't notice Stiles, crossing the corridor before him.

The boy looks up and smiles. Derek observes his face, searching for any sign that Stiles is angry with him – just to find nothing.

''Uh, I'm-'' Derek grimaces and starts again, ''I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party.''

''Huh?'' Stiles frowns at him. ''Ah, on Friday? No, that was...'' He shrugs. ''I mean, I was dancing with Derek Hale, my social standing if anything has improved.''

God, the social hierarchy. Derek has completely forgotten about that. He's been spending so much time with Stiles, has been thinking about him so much, the differences between them have completely escaped him.

It doesn't even feel like there are any. Stiles is so smart and funny, maybe he isn't handsome but he is just – _pretty_ – and all of it should make him more popular than Derek.

Derek just looks at Stiles and the boy starts talking again. ''So yeah, nothing's happened,'' he shrugs again and gives Derek a tight smile.

 

''Did you threaten them into sitting here as well?''

''No. Some people actually like me,'' says Derek having no idea if Erica and Boyd do actually like him.

''Yeah, it won't ever cease to amaze me,'' replies Scott glancing at Stiles, who's suddenly busy with his lunch.

''This is Erica and Boyd, this is Stiles and Stiles' best friend, Scott.''

'' _Oh_ ,'' Erica grins, her voice loaded, '' _I see._ ''

''And here's Lydia and Jackson.''

''Do you want to join the lacrosse team, Boyd? We could drive Stilinski away.''

''You won't,'' interjects Derek. ''Stiles' good with the strategy, Finstock won't let him go.''

''I don't like sports.''

''Yeah, Boyd's a romantic soul,'' smiles Erica. ''Who is it now?''

''William Wordsworth,'' says Boyd. '' _(…)_ _the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time._ ''

Derek stares at the guy, who stays calm, still, even after he's just cited poetry, in high school, just like that, around people he doesn't know, like he doesn't care what they think of him – and that's actually kind of amazing.

''Oh, I love all those bands,'' says Allison with a smile, gesturing at Erica's bag covered with patches and pins.

Derek glances at it. He recognizes some of the groups – System of A Down, Iron Maiden, In Flames, but there are many he's never heard of, like Ayreon, Dropkick Murphys, Tiamat, or, seriously, Enter Shikari? Is that Japanese?

''You listen to metal?'' asks Lydia, turning to Allison.

Allison gazes at Lydia and says, intense as Derek has never seen her, '' _I listen to everything._ ''

''I played _Le premier bonheur du jour_ Françoise Hardy's for my love confession,'' mentions Scott with a dopey smile.

Everyone turns to stare at him.

''Dude, you put on a music to accompany your confession?'' asks Stiles. ''A french song?''

''Yeah, I had a bouquet of roses too,'' says Scott. ''It was romantic.''

''Where did you take this idea from?'' asks Jackson. ''Some shitty rom-com?''

Scott opens his mouth, staring at Jackson like a deer caught in headlights, then shuts it after a beat. ''No,'' he says slowly.

''I didn't know that you like music that much,'' frowns Lydia, turning to Allison. ''We should meet this weekend,'' she states decisively after a moment, then glances at Erica. ''You can come as well, we will look for a better bag for you.''

''You won't find a better bag than this one,'' opposes Erica immediately.

Lydia keeps her eyes on her. ''We'll see about that.''

''Sounds good,'' grins Stiles. ''We should go to the arcade,'' he says to Derek.

''I never thought that all those failures at lacrosse hurt your pride so much that you need to take a revenge,'' replies Derek. ''With air hockey.''

''Asshole,'' Stiles shoves him. ''I'll _destroy_ you.''

Derek hums agreeably. ''With air hockey.''

''Speaking of bags, I did use that handbag again, even if it's not in my style,'' says Lydia to Jackson.

''Yeah, for 3 hours. Again.''

''Look, I didn't say anything when you bought this shirt for $500.''

''Five hundred-'' repeats Stiles, staring at Jackson, incredulous. '' _Dude_.''

''And yet even this shirt wouldn't help in your case, Stilinski.''

''My case doesn't need help.''

'' _Yes, it does._ ''

''It doesn't,'' interjects Derek calmly, not looking up from his lunch.

Silence.

He continues eating, even as he knows everyone's looking at him, waiting until-

''So, people are assholes,'' speaks up Stiles, finally turning the attention away from Derek. ''I've never realized my sexual orientation was this interesting to this many students.''

Derek shifts in his chair, uncomfortable and doesn't make eye contact with anyone.

''Yeah, it can get kinda bad,'' agrees Erica. ''Some people still think of me as crazy just because I was dating Heather and now I'm with Boyd.''

Heather?

''I can't believe I attend the same high school as those people. It's not that hard to google 'gays','' speaks up Lydia.

''What the fuck,'' says Jackson, looking at all of them, bewildered. ''You talk about it like it's,'' he pauses, his eyebrows raising, '' _normal_.''

He, Derek and the others spend the rest of the break learning more about Derek's sexual orientation than he thought possible from Lydia and Erica.

He can hear Stiles in his mind turning the words dirty but refuses to change them only for this reason.

 

''Sometimes I feel like it's only Jackson and Scott keeping this team together,'' starts Derek after the game. It wasn't their best one.

Stiles frowns at that and Scott opposes immediately, '' _Not true._ ''

''Well, okay, Stiles' strategy was pretty good, I'll give him that.''

''Thank you,'' nods Stiles. ''But you did score a lot.''

Derek glances at him then away, not sure how to take the praise.

''Aw, they're being sweet,'' interrupts Finstock, smiling at them.

''I was actually talking about Isaac,'' says Scott. ''Have you seen his stand-off? And during the previous games he's scored some as well. He always makes sure the ball gets to me, Jackson or you.''

''Uh,'' Derek gazes at him, searching for the right words. ''Okay. Good job, Isaac,'' he finishes lamely and waits for Scott's remark but it doesn't come. Instead, Scott shuffles closer to Isaac and says to him something quietly and the blond guy smiles at him, his eyes stopping at Scott's mouth a bit too long.

Oh.

 

Apparently, bisexualism really _is_ a thing.

 

Boyd stops to look at the poster.

It's World's Illustrations Awards 2017.

''Oh,'' says Derek and shifts his weight, suddenly realizing that he has Boyd's attention now. ''You plan on going?'' he asks, tilting his heads to the poster.

Boyd nods and looks away.

''Uh,'' Derek speaks up again to keep him from leaving, ''can I go with you?''

''Sure,'' Boyd shrugs and walks away.

'' _Oh my god_ ,'' gasps Stiles behind him. ''You have a bro-crush on Boyd!''

''I don't-'' he starts and frowns, realizing the words, ''what even is a 'bro-crush'?''

''I'm totally telling this to Erica,'' states Stiles, grinning like a madman.

''You wouldn't dare,'' replies Derek, standing still.

''Oh, wouldn't I?'' Stiles turns to him, cocking an eyebrow, his eyes shining.

Derek has a sudden urge to kiss him.

He turns away. ''You wouldn't, cause then you'll have to practice lacrosse and play chess with me every day.''

Stiles doesn't answer at first, then shrugs. ''Doesn't sound that bad.''

He leaves when Derek gazes at him.

 

Isaac sits down with them on Thursday. Derek observes him, of course, but more so than the others. Still, he at least tries to be subtle – Stiles doesn't, watching Isaac like a hawk, all tensed up.

Isaac smiles at Scott _and_ Allison. When they talk, he doesn't look away, he doesn't frown but instead joins the conversation. When Allison dimples at him, Isaac returns the expression and glances away, blushing a little.

Well – that's – unexpected.

 

''Derek,'' Lydia makes a face, seeing him on Saturday, ''what have you done to your hair?''

Shit. He should've swallowed his pride and ask Laura if using hair gel was a good idea, even if it meant admitting that he wants to change something for Stiles.

''It's a travesty,'' agrees Erica, grimacing.

Derek looks at Allison, helpless.

''Sorry. If you had metal hair or a devilock I could defend you, but it looks like you've taken fashion advice from Backstreet Boys.''

Derek keeps looking at her. Was he supposed to understand that?

Allison shifts her weight, glances away and back at Derek, suddenly uncertain. ''I mean, it's okay if you like this kind of soft music,'' she says finally. ''With singing about love...'' She can't help making a face.

Erica and Lydia stare at him.

''I don't listen to Backstreet Boys,'' frowns Derek. ''And don't gang up on me,'' he adds, grimacing.

''Kinky,'' mutters Stiles next to him, then looks at the girls. ''Though I share the sentiment.''

Derek glances at him. ''Well, I don't. I'd rather be in control.''

Stiles quirks an eyebrow. ''Are you confessing something here?''

''You've just told me about your submission fantasies.''

''Oh, come on, anyone would get those with them.''

Derek scowls. ''I wouldn't,'' he says, looking at Stiles with distaste.

Stiles narrows his eyes. ''Are you kink-shaming me?''

''You have a BDSM discussion _here_?'' asks Lydia.

'' _Private is public_ ,'' retorts Stiles without missing a beat, then turns to Derek again. ''You don't look that bad. It's just that this hairstyle seems to be Finstock-inspired.''

Derek groans. ''I'm going home.''

''No, really, it's not bad,'' repeats Stiles, gripping Derek's arm. ''Kind of – pointy, you know? Like a porcupine. And porcupines are cute, so,'' he shrugs.

''So I'm supposed to take this as a compliment?'' asks Derek, incredulous.

Stiles rolls his eyes. ''Let's go play air hockey. It'll cheer you up.''

It does cheer Derek up, especially since he wins.

''You just have to be faster,'' he says to Stiles, mostly to annoy him. ''It's all about reflexes.''

''I'm not taking advice from a _porcupine_.''

''Well, how does it feel, being beaten by a porcupine?''

Stiles shoots him a glare and pushes him a little to the side. Derek shoves him as well, Stiles reciprocates and people start steering clear of them as they continue fighting, both grinning. Stiles plasters himself to Derek's side to push him away and feeling his warmth, Derek turns just to be met with Stiles' eyes and pink lips-

Noticing a movement nearby, he straightens away from the boy and clears his throat. God, they are in the middle of the shopping center.

''We should meet with the others now,'' he says.

There are all kinds of people here. Strangers that think who-the-fuck-knows-what seeing them.

''I'll call Lydia.'' Stiles takes out his phone and – oh. They are on that level already.

Yet Stiles is here with him now. Of course there are all those moments – the touches, looking too long at each other, blushes – but it can still pass as a friendship.

It doesn't _feel_ like that but how definite are feelings?

People change all the time, and leave, like Paige, like his-

Derek glances away just as they pass the art shop and stops to regard the new crayons.

''Lydia is still looking for a bag for Erica,'' says Stiles. ''You want to come in here?''

Derek nods.

''Look at this one. The color is beautiful.''

Stiles hums in agreement. ''Red.''

Derek frowns. ''It's more like purple to me.''

''It's not purple, it's totally red.''

Derek rolls his eyes. ''We can ask Jackson if you want to make sure.''

When Stiles doesn't respond, he turns to him.

''I don't know why you're so embarrassed about your drawings. I mean, Jackson likes shopping, cares about his clothes and the names of the colors, Boyd likes poetry and Scott secretly loves watching rom coms.'' He frowns. ''Actually, you fit right in.''

Derek answers after a second. ''Next to you and your chess-playing?''

''Yeah, next to my nerdy self,'' agrees Stiles but grimaces a little. Before Derek can ask about that, Stiles takes the crayons and asks, ''So, you're buying this?''

He is.

When they get to the place Lydia told Stiles about, Derek is frozen in spot. Lydia and Allison look the same as ever – flowery dresses, natural make-up, some delicate jewelry. They are the epitome of feminine.

They are also standing in the middle of the gothic shop ( _those exist?_ ).

Erica, though, seems to be in her natural habitat, watching a bag with way too many metal spikes. ''You were right,'' she says to Lydia, ''this bag is better than the one I have. But I wonder what to do with all those pins and badges.''

''Pin them to something else,'' shrugs Lydia.

''Maybe to this leather jacket you have?'' suggests Boyd.

Erica beams and kisses him right there.

''Doesn't this bag kinda look like a hedgehog?'' asks Isaac.

Scott and Allison turn to him simultaneously, smiling. Stiles, however, looks at Derek, grinning wildly and opening his lips to say something. Derek slaps his hand over Stiles' mouth, glaring at him.

He's never experimenting with his hair again.

As they leave the shop, Erica with her new bag, Stiles talks with Lydia, trying to convince her that he doesn't need a complete wardrobe revolution, and Derek stays behind, watching them when Allison joins him.

''You're good with Stiles,'' she says quietly.

''We argue all the time.''

''Yeah. I mean,'' she grimaces, ''it wasn't good at the beginning, but now, you make it work.''

 _Make it work_. Wasn't that the expression Paige used back then?

He doesn't answer and after a while he can hear her singing:

'' _Open mind for a different view/and nothing else matters._ ''

''Metallica!'' recognizes Erica, turning to them with a triumphant smile and back again.

Is Allison making fun of him? He glances at the girl. She wouldn't, right?

The girl dimples at him.

''It's so weird that you listen to metal.''

'' _Nothing Else Matters_ is hardly a metal,'' dismisses Allison. ''And I just listen to good music. Oh, but do you know Paradise Lost? They are pretty great, I keep listening to them now.''

''The name sounds metal enough.''

Allison grins. ''Really? You should check the names of the Cannibal Corpse's songs.''

It's late afternoon when they decide to come back home. Stiles is talking with Scott but pauses when Derek steps closer.

''Hey, you want to go back together? I'm buying ice cream.''

''So now you need to resort to bribery to get Stiles to spend time with you, huh,'' notices Scott in a flat voice.

''No, I'm actually returning a favor,'' replies Derek. ''It's called good manners, which you'd know if you had them.''

''Seriously, McCall, 17 years on this Earth and you struggle with the basic stuff. It's sad,'' comments Jackson.

''Exactly,'' nods Derek.

Scott is so surprised at first he just stares at them, finally narrowing his eyes at Derek. ''Okay, I'd say that I'm giving back your honor, but since there is no such thing,'' he shrugs with a triumphant face and turns to Allison and Isaac.

Derek doesn't mind his words, too amused with how smug Scott looked.

''Yeah, that was a real gentlemen's battle, now can I get ice cream,'' says Stiles, gazing at Derek expectantly.

Derek doesn't even try to control his smile and touches Stiles' back to steer him to the exit. He keeps his hand there longer than necessary.

''Just a normal ice cream today? No fancy addings?''

''I've won air hockey,'' reminds Derek.

''Winning air hockey isn't what makes us human, Derek,'' says Stiles seriously.

''I don't care what makes us human, I care that I've won.''

''Oh, right, you're an animal.''

Derek rolls his eyes. Seriously, _one time_.

''So what was this favor you wanted to repay?''

Derek shrugs, looking somewhere else. ''I was an asshole.''

Stiles gives him a small grin and bumps their arms. ''You still are,'' he replies.

Derek smiles faintly and looks somewhere before him. Slowly, he takes a breath, his gaze locked on the horizon. ''You don't have to be here.''

Stiles frowns.

''I know I'm not smart, or funny,'' continues Derek and grimaces. ''I'm just a jock.''

''What,'' Stiles interrupts him, turning to Derek and gripping his wrist, ''that's _bullshit_. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to.'' Their hands still touching, Stiles regards him with a slight frown. ''I like spending time with you. I like y-,'' he pauses, his eyes widening and lips tightening. ''I like your sense of humor, I like how hard-working you are, I like arguing with you.''

When Derek doesn't reply, he asks, his voice quieter, ''Why would you say that?''

Derek still doesn't look at him, now choosing to stare at the ground. ''When my parents died,'' he starts and swallows, his face blank, ''I wasn't the best person to be around. I've met Paige and we got along really well,'' he takes a breath, ''I thought it was good.'' He shrugs. ''She didn't.''

Stiles keeps watching him, his eyebrows drawn together, his eyes big and attentive.

It makes Derek angry. He is not something sensitive, delicate, something to be _careful_ around.

''It doesn't matter,'' he says in a rougher voice. ''She's changed schools. It was a long time ago.''

''But you still think about her,'' replies Stiles quietly.

Derek grimaces and shrugs, looking away.

''We should go,'' he says finally. ''It's getting late.''

Stiles nods. ''Thanks for telling me.''

For a second, Derek struggles with an answer. ''I wanted to.''

Stiles turns to him and gives him a weak, almost shaky smile. ''Thanks. I'll – see you,'' he adds and walks away.

Derek stares at him, somewhat surprised. He could go with Stiles a little bit more – not much, but still.

He is not an idiot, though. Stiles has just heard about Paige, and then this smile, the touching-

 _shut up._ They are friends, even after all the shit Derek pulled, he should be just grateful, and yet he still wants-

Never mind. It'd be weird anyway to accompany Stiles to his house, they are _friends_.

 

In the evening, he suddenly remembers Lydia's words. Something about BDSM-

and he actually has a laptop open before him. Whatever, he may as well read about it and do math homework later.

Okay, this is some weird shit – he definitely shouldn't be interested in it and in taking control and power, in _bondage-_

he needs to do math homework.

He's finished task 4, so now it's task 5 about primary numbers.

Because there are some boundaries. There needs to be. Just – okay, he is attracted to Stiles and he could be – somewhat – bisexual, but-

Derek knocks with his pen the paper with unfinished calculations, staring at them. Tries to finish the equation.

This is just too much. He is _normal_. He's always been. It may look like this but it's all in his head, it's different, people think shit all the time, right, it's a phase-

_like Stiles was a phase?_

God, he is fucked up.

 

Okay.

He is bisexual.

Derek looks at his computer, then out of the window, then turns to see his whole room.

''I'm bisexual,'' he states.

Nothing happens.

Obviously.

It just felt like something could-

never mind.

 

The first text that he sends to Stiles reads, _I'm broken_.

When Stiles replies with a question mark, he continues, _Allison told me about Cannibal Corpse_. After few seconds, he adds, _I thought music was supposed to be nice_.

Stiles: jesus

Stiles: you know

Stiles: i can't stop reading the lyrics. it's fascinating

Derek: I worry about your mental health.

Stiles: i heard that walks in nature help with that

Derek: You want to go to the preserve?

Stiles: tomorrow at 5?

Derek: Okay.

Stiles: see you :)

He can't stop smiling back at the emoticon.

 

''You should tell Laura about your boyfriend.''

''I don't have a boyfriend,'' scowls Derek.

''You had a romantic walk in the woods yesterday.''

Derek flushes, his eyes pinned to the table. ''It wasn't romantic.''

''But – what,'' frowns Laura, ''Really? I mean, _you're gay?'_ '

''I'm not gay,'' snaps Derek but then adds, quieter, ''I'm bisexual.''

''Oh,'' says Laura after a while, her eyes wide. ''Okay.'' She looks at him for a second. ''Anything else I should know?''

''I'm in a mathematics club and play chess.''

''Mathematics-'' repeats Laura, incredulous. ''Well, that's a perfect time to add something to the blow, Peter.''

''I'm dating Christopher Argent.''

''Yeah, hilarious.''

Peter raises an eyebrow at her, smirking as both Laura and Derek stare at him. Keeping their gaze, he takes out his phone, dials something and after a while, says, ''Hello, Christopher. Laura's back from New York for a few days. Would you like to come by today and meet her and Derek?''

''Come on,'' interrupts Laura, ''you're definitely not on that level yet.''

''Yeah, 6 is great,'' continues Peter. ''See you.''

 

''Does he always cook like that?'' asks Laura, staring at all the dishes on the table, then turns to Derek.

''No.''

Argent smirks and quirks an eyebrow at Peter, who shrugs. ''I just felt like trying the recipes.''

Laura facepalms. '' _Lame_.''

Argent's smile broadens and for a while, he seems actually fond of Peter, looking at him with some sort of soft expression.

Derek makes a face and turns away. ''I didn't even know he could prepare something more complicated than tea.''

''Tea is complicated,'' states Peter.

Laura laughs out loud.

''No, he's right,'' says Derek. ''I've seen him prepare it. It's a whole process. Measurement of the water's temperature, the right amount of leaves, the right time of brewing.''

''By the way,'' Peter turns to Argent, ''do you want some tea? We have Masala chai, Longjing, Tieguanyin, Yiwu...''

'' _Woah_.''

''Longjing, please,'' says Argent.

''What about you, Laura?''

She stares at Peter, probably wondering if it's a test to see if she can repeat one of the names. And _hah_ , she can't because she turns to Derek. ''I'll just take whatever Derek has.''

Derek raises, smug, and goes to the kitchen to prepare some instant tea Peter hates.

 

He can get off to gay porn, lesbian porn, BDSM porn, and – thank god, he feels like this is really important – to normal, man and woman, vanilla porn.

 

''Hey,'' Derek catches Allison's eyes, ''did you know that your father and my uncle...''

''Peter, yeah. They are together. My dad told me,'' Allison nods.

Derek glances away to think about what to say but gets distracted by Stiles, laughing nearby. He has a nice laugh, and then he grins and punches Scott playfully-

Derek turns back to Allison. ''Are you okay with it?''

Allison grimaces. ''I wasn't at first,'' she admits. ''I wanted him to find someone and be happy but I kind of thought it would be, uh, a woman. When I heard about Peter I couldn't,'' she cuts herself off, looking on the ground. ''I thought he was hiding it all these years, that he was lying to my mother,'' she pauses again and sighs. ''Anyway, I'm fine with it now. I mean, my dad keeps smiling like an idiot when he texts Peter so I can't not be.''

''Have you met Peter?''

''A few times.''

Derek frowns. ''Do you know how long they've been together?''

''I'm not sure. A month? But they know each other longer.''

One month, or longer, and Peter tells him now. And Derek didn't realize anything.

He tightens his lips. ''We should meet, all of us.''

Allison glances at him. ''Yeah, that's a good idea.''

''Sunday this week? Since my sister is back from college.''

''Sounds good.''

 

Stiles is trying to sleep during the break, his head hidden in his arms, when Derek notices him and sits across Stiles' desk. He takes out a bottle of coke he just bought, still cold, and touches Stiles' neck with it.

Stiles jerks awake, his arms flailing. Derek observes the movement, unwillingly impressed. ''I don't think I could ever repeat what you just did,'' he admits.

Stiles scrunches his nose at him and blinks. God, he is cute.

''I'm unique,'' he says finally.

Derek can't help a small smile. ''Yeah, you are.''

 

''I'll be in college, not in China,'' says Laura.

Derek frowns.

''It means that you should call me sometimes. To tell me when you start collecting stamps, to gossip about Peter's love life or to get an advice on how to get down on a boy.''

'' _Laura!_ '' hisses Derek, glancing at Peter.

''As long as you're safe,'' shrugs his uncle.

Derek shakes his head. ''No, I still don't want to hear about it.''

''Sooner or later you know you'll need it, baby bro.''

The next day, Derek chokes on his lunch reading a text from Laura.

 

''Can we play chess?''

Peter nods, regarding him.

Derek can't focus on the game. He is failing but it doesn't matter, it was just an excuse anyway.

He fiddles with his pawn, lost in thoughts and briefly wonders if it's his move now. _Oh, whatever._ He looks at Peter.

''Are you gay?'' he blurts out.

Peter's eyes raise to his. ''No,'' he replies.

''So,'' Derek shifts on the chair, ''are you bisexual?''

''I don't think so,'' Peter frowns. ''I've never bothered with labels.''

Derek drops his gaze to the playing board, mindlessly rearranging his king. ''Did my parents know?''

''Yes,'' Peter answers and adds in a different, calmer tone, ''they didn't care.''

Derek grimaces and looks away. ''Yeah, well, you're not their son-''

''They wouldn't care,'' interrupts Peter. ''You know that.''

Derek doesn't answer but lets Peter grip his arm. It's the closest thing they have to a hug.

Peter takes back his hand and says, ''I could've told you about Christopher differently.''

''You could've.'' Derek doesn't look at him and continues, ''But we weren't really talking, so.'' He shrugs.

It's a while before Peter speaks up again. ''I'm not good at this.''

''Yeah, well,'' Derek makes a grimace that may pass as a smile, ''I'm not the best either.''

Peter huffs out a laugh and Derek actually smiles a bit, and it's still kinda weird, but feels okay. Even if he loses in chess.

 

Derek takes some of Stiles' fries.

''Dude,'' starts Scott, scandalized, ''he took your _fries_.''

''I know,'' moans Stiles. ''Seriously, Derek, we need some rules here.''

Derek raises his brows, looking at Stiles and reaches to eat another fry.

Stiles narrows his eyes and moves his hand to Derek's plate, making a move for the baby carrots-

Derek keeps Stiles' wrist in place.

''Why so violent? You can't get everything in life just with your muscles.''

Derek turns to him. ''We're not resolving this with a round of chess.''

''Well, what do you suggest then?''

''Drawing competition,'' smirks Derek.

Stiles looks at him for a while and nods. ''Okay, I can still totally win depending on who's judging-''

''Definitely not Scott, he'll be biased.''

Stiles rolls his eyes. ''I'm being creative, okay? Isn't that the point of drawing?''

Derek gives him a flat look and keeps eating fries, still deciding to leave three of them for Stiles, who shoots him a disbelieving glare but takes them anyway.

 

He comes into his English class still somewhat sleepy and doesn't pay attention to his surroundings. Seeing Jennifer, he mutters _hi_ and sits down.

Blearily searching for his pen, he doesn't notice she didn't answer and keeps looking at him.

''Are you friends with Erica Reyes?''

Derek turns to her, frowning a bit. ''Yeah, I guess.''

Jennifer grimaces. ''You shouldn't be around her,'' she states.

Derek raises an eyebrow, finally taking his pen out.

''I'm telling you this as an advice,'' says Jennifer, keeping his gaze. ''It's just better if you're not seen with her.''

''What?''

''There are some things about her,'' she pauses and grimaces again. ''Look, I have nothing against gays, or lesbians, but what she does – there is something wrong with her.'' She shakes her head. ''And I know that when you danced with this guy last week it was just a joke, but there are gossips-''

''It wasn't a joke,'' interrupts Derek, completely awake now. He thins his mouth. ''I don't care what people think,'' he continues, looking at her, sitting straight now, his fists tightening.

_A lie._

''And I'll be friends with Erica cause I actually like her,'' he finishes as Jennifer stares at him, taken aback. Derek stands up and takes his things, his hands trembling.

He didn't even realize how angry he was.

Because – for fuck's sake – how hard can it be to understand bisexuality?

And shit, more importantly, where does he sit now?

Derek looks around and notices Isaac at the back of the room.

He plops down next to him, not asking if it's okay, it's Isaac, no one sits next to him. Derek ignores the looks people send his way.

Isaac doesn't say anything but glances at him, curious, as Derek searches for his notebook now, where does all this stuff go.

''You'd think in the XXI century people would understand that who you like is not anyone's business but yours,'' he says finally in a quiet voice, crumbling an old math test he's found instead.

Isaac shrugs. ''It's even weirder when you like two persons at the same time.''

Derek pauses mulling over his conversation with Jennifer and turns to the boy.

Isaac doesn't say anything else and stares somewhere ahead.

''We're both fucked, then,'' Derek sums up.

Isaac glances at him. ''On Saturday it looked like you were dating Stiles.''

Derek grimaces. ''I have no idea what I'm doing with Stiles.''

Isaac chuckles without cheer. ''I have no idea what I'm doing, either.''

''You should talk to Erica.''

''Erica?''

''Yeah. It's thanks to her I know I'm bisexual.''

Their English teacher comes in and Derek groans. ''Are you any good at English?''

''I'm better with French.''

''Isn't Allison good at French?''

Isaac smiles. ''The best.''

''See, you have something in common. And Stiles told me Scott loves romantic comedies. You can try to go with that.''

''Scott loves rom-coms?'' asks Isaac, turning to Derek.

''Yeah.''

''That's adorable,'' Isaac shakes his head.

Derek thinks about Scott and _adorable_ , and frowns. ''If you say so.''

 

Derek sits down next to Stiles now, again, during the lunch. Giving the boy a small smile, he notices a smudge on his neck.

Frowning, he tries to wipe it off with his hand.

Stiles freezes under him, blushing furiously.

Right, they are in public. Derek bulldozers on, determined to make the smudge disappear. ''I think it's from a pen,'' he says, his eyes locked on Stiles' neck.

Erica makes a retching sound.

Scott turns to her, incredulous. ''Do you know how long _I_ had to endure that?''

Derek takes away his hand, flushing, and shoots them a glare.

''Derek?'' asks Stiles.

''Yeah?''

''You want to meet on Saturday?''

Derek huffs out a laugh, grateful for a change of topic. ''I knew you'd want a rematch after I beat you in air hockey.''

''Yeah,'' says Stiles, his voice strange.

He doesn't say anything more and noticing how jittery the boy is, Derek looks up at him.

''So, it's a date?'' Stiles croaks finally and flushes.

Derek stares at him. ''But – Lydia?''

Stiles frowns. ''What about her?''

Derek quietens his voice. ''Aren't you in love with her?''

Stiles' eyes widen as he regards Derek. '' _No_. I'm not in love with her, not since you've elbowed me to the ground in lacrosse.'' He squirms a little in his seat. ''I mean, that's when I've realised, but I've kept thinking about you since the day we've met and you glared at me.''

''But that was – when _was_ it?''

''Yeah, long time ago,'' nods Stiles and bites his lip, looking away.

Derek gazes at him, his mouth still open a bit in surprise. ''I've realized after we've played chess. The second time.''

Stiles chuckles at that, completely flushed by now, and messes his hair. He is so unconsciously sweet it's completely disarming-

…and Derek doesn't stop himself anymore. He reaches with his hand to Stiles' neck and draws him closer, turning Stiles' face to himself and kisses him.

''Fucking finally.''

'' _He sang of love, with quiet blending,_ _/_ _Slow to begin, and never ending._ ''

''You're such an idiot, Derek.''

''Real smooth, Stilinski.''

''I'm still not sure I like that.''

''It's cute!''

''No idea what I'm doing, huh?''

''Take a photo, just in case.''

''Hale is gay!''

''What the fuck? Finstock was right?!''

 

''Did we just escape to let Peter and Chris kiss?'' asks Derek. ''What has my life come to.''

Allison gives him a flat look. ''Like we don't do that for you and Stiles.''

''But we've just started dating!''

Allison raises her eyebrows.

Derek flushes, looking away. ''Fair point,'' he concedes and tries to not be offended when Laura cackles at him.

''So, I've realized that you need some music education,'' says Allison. ''Listen to this song and tell me why it's good.''

''What if it's not good?''

''Derek, this is Pink Floyd, of course it's good,'' interjects Laura.

''Exactly,'' shrugs Allison.

 

Boyd, from now on, is Derek's favorite person to go to exhibitions, galleries, and museums. He understands that sometimes you have to spend 5 more minutes, or 5 more hours, looking at this one piece. He keeps quiet, only occasionally pointing out at some details or parallels between the images. It makes Derek remember the parallels between music and mathematics that Stiles told about the other day, and he wonders if the same can be said about art and mathematics, art and music, maybe even poetry and music, poetry and art, poetry and mathematics-

He can feel his whole worldview expanding as Boyd turns to him, nodding as he listens.

Yeah, Boyd is his favorite.

 

''Am I your sex ed teacher now?''

''What?'' Derek turns to Erica, startled. From the corner of his eye, he can see Greenberg's raised eyebrows as he is passing them by.

He tenses at first, but really – he doesn't even know Greenberg that well, and Stiles, Boyd, Lydia, Isaac, Scott, and Allison would know that Erica was joking.

She was joking, right?

''You've sent Isaac to me.''

''Yeah, because you're pansexual.''

Erica narrows her eyes. ''That doesn't mean I'm polyamorous.''

''Uh,'' starts Derek, ''it doesn't?''

''You don't know?''

Derek shakes his head.

Erica stares at him, unblinking. ''Then don't assume.''

 _Oh._ ''Sorry.''

Erica sighs. ''Tap your number into my phone and I'll send you something to read.''

Derek glances at her questioningly, taking the mobile.

She shoots him a sharp smile. ''I am your sex ed teacher after all.''

Derek makes a face, saving his contact. ''Can you at least help me with English?''

''Ask Boyd, he's good with the literature and interpretation.''

Derek gives her phone back without answering.

''What is it?''

''I'm not sure he likes me.''

''Come on, you've seen this exhibition together. That's a prime bro-bonding experience.''

Derek frowns and squints at her. ''Have you been talking with Stiles?''

 

Derek's about to greet Stiles when he notices his clothes and his mouth goes dry. Stiles has a nice shirt accentuating his broad arms and tight jeans, and Derek really doesn't need to think about Stiles' ass when he thinks about his everything already.

''Hey,'' he nods. ''You look good.''

''Thanks,'' Stiles smiles at him, his hand reaching up to his hair just to freeze and go back down. Right, his hair is styled as well. ''Uh, Lydia decided that I can't be trusted to prepare myself for our first date.''

Jesus, Derek can't look away from him. He can't tell whether he's happy or angry with Lydia's interference.

''I mean,'' starts Stiles, his eyes widening as he freezes, his cheeks slowly reddening, ''if it is our first... yeah.''

God, how can he be so cute, and it is so freaking sweet when he can't look up at Derek.

Derek smiles a little and says in a voice as level as he can, ''It is.''

They are going to play air hockey, of course.

''Yass,'' hisses Stiles and shoots Derek a grin after his victory. ''Another round?''

Derek looks at him and shifts weight. ''I don't know, maybe we should stop here.''

Stiles glances at him. ''Why?''

Derek shrugs. ''It's a draw and,'' he looks somewhere else, ''it just seems fitting for the first date.''

Stiles doesn't say anything, frozen in place, and Derek flints his eyes to him nervously.

''Oh my god, you're just pure fluff inside,'' says Stiles finally with a huge smile. ''I can't believe I haven't realized.''

Derek makes a face. ''I'm not-''

''You totally are,'' Stiles claps his arm, still gazing at him. ''Say, did you plan to get ice cream on the way back?''

Derek doesn't answer.

''For old times' sake?'' digs Stiles further in.

''Shut up. See if you get them now,'' he grumbles.

'' _Aww_.''

Stiles won't stop laughing even when they finish ice cream, and in revenge, Derek drags him to a darker alley and pushes him against the wall, diving in for a kiss.

Stiles responds immediately and Derek can't believe he's been waiting for it so long, can't stop touching Stiles' neck, his arms, pushing his hips closer. Stiles moans as Derek gets to his neck, kissing, biting, licking the skin there, but Stiles finds his mouth again and grabs Derek's hips, seeking friction. Derek takes Stiles' hands and brings them over his head, staring down at Stiles.

There is a sudden light on his right-

 _Jesus_.

Derek freezes in the spot, still turned to the side, before jumping away from Stiles.

They are in _public_. On an open road.

''I'm sorry,'' he says immediately. ''I didn't mean-''

Stiles looks at him with a slight frown, completely flushed, his clothes creased and lips open. ''What?'' he asks before gasping for air.

Derek closes his eyes for a second. '' _Fuck_ ,'' he breathes. ''I wanted to make it better, I- I'm sorry.''

Stiles shakes his head slowly, unmoving from his spot against the wall. ''What are you talking about?''

' _'This_ ,'' snaps Derek and turns away from him.

Stiles doesn't speak for a while and when he does, his voice is oddly calm. ''You didn't want this.''

Derek frowns and looks at him. ''I did.''

Stiles straightens his back, his hands flailing. ''So what are you talking about? You wanted this, I wanted this – why aren't we _kissing_?''

Derek regards him for a second, then steps closer. ''You wanted this?''

''Yes! Should I-''

His words are muffled and then gone, as Derek comes back to kissing him, hard. He doesn't restrain himself now and pushes his thigh between Stiles' legs. ''Come on,'' he says roughly at Stiles' moan and bites his neck, probably forms a hickey as Stiles moves against him, his hands clutching Derek's shirt before Derek grabs them and put them over his head again.

Keeping Stiles' wrists in one of his hand, he shoves Stiles even closer against the wall. ''Like this. Don't move your hands,'' he orders in a low voice as Stiles pushes his hips against him, steadily bringing himself to climax, moaning and gasping Derek's name. Derek keeps kissing him, biting and licking his neck, the other hand finding his way under Stiles' tee just before he comes.

Stiles sags against him, gasping, and even though Derek's completely turned on and wants to come as well, he kisses Stiles first, pets his head and strokes his back.

He waits as Stiles' breathing eves out, still hard, but this – taking care of Stiles, knowing that the boy trusts him enough to give over his control, writhing against Derek, his eyes closed and hands immobilized, leaves Derek feeling oddly fulfilled.

Derek finds himself combing Stiles' hair on his nape.

After a while, Stiles touches the jeans over his length questioningly, but Derek just kisses him in response. ''Not here,'' he answers quietly.

''I knew you were confessing something back then,'' says Stiles. '' _I'd rather be in control_ ,'' he repeats in a lower voice and snickers.

Derek wills himself to keep petting Stiles' head. ''You're okay with this?''

''God, yes, more than okay. My safeword's _kraken_.''

''That's ridiculous.''

''Can you imagine me saying that normally?''

''I can imagine you saying anything.''

Stiles huffs out a laugh, his face hidden in a juncture between Derek's neck and arm.

''Why don't we use the lights system? Red, yellow, green?''

Stiles nods his head. ''Yeah. Okay.''

 

''I listened to this group yesterday,'' says Derek, gesturing at Erica's shirt with 'Nightwish' inscription.

''Really? Do you like them?''

''They suck.''

Erica narrows her eyes. '' _You heathen._ ''

''Don't worry, I'm working on this,'' Allison speaks up, confident. ''First Blonde Redhead, then The Cure, and I'm sure we'll get to all metal groups in no time.''

''Actually, Isaac, what do _you_ do in your free time?'' asks Stiles, turning to the boy.

''I play RPG.''

Derek can see the exact moment Stiles completely changes the way he regards Isaac.

''Really?'' His eyes wide, Stiles turns with his whole body to Isaac. ''Me too! Wait, so, werewolf vs abominable snowman, who wins?''

''Werewolf.''

''Dude, it's totally abominable snowman!'' Stiles glances back at Derek. ''Werewolf vs abominable snowman?''

Derek looks at him flatly.

''See? Derek thinks it's abominable snowman too. How about you, Boyd?''

''Raven,'' says Boyd stoically. ''Because Poe.''

 

''Do you know how to solve task 23?''

''Uh, yeah, here,'' says Derek, shuffling his notes.

''Huh,'' mutters Heather, ''when did you get good at maths?''

''Don't you know I'm a nerd? I'm in a math club.''

''Yeah, you've joined to get a boyfriend.''

Derek shrugs with one arm, smiling smugly. ''It worked.''

'' _Gross_.''

Derek looks at her as she copies his calculations. ''Hey,'' he clears his throat, ''have you dated Erica?''

Heather looks up at him, surprised. ''Erica Reyes? Yeah,'' she nods and smiles a little. ''She is a good kisser.''

''Uh, so,'' Derek clears his throat, ''are you lesbian?''

Heather stops writing and meets his eyes, raising an eyebrow. ''So, are you gay?'' she parrots.

Derek winces in response. ''Sorry.''

Heather shrugs, looking back at his notebook. ''I actually am.''

Derek glances down at the desk and plays with his pen for a while. ''Sorry. I'm kinda new to this,''' he pauses and shrugs again, ''all this.''

Heather just gives him a small smile.

 

The other team is relentless, keeps on hitting them without a break. They have to turn defensive.

The other half of the field is almost empty when Jackson finally manages to take over the ball and flicks it to Isaac, who turns it immediately to Scott, barely avoiding a hit from the other player, Scott runs and throws it to Derek-

and just how Stiles ended up on the offensive?

He can see as the boy's eyes turn wide, realizing his position, and trusting him with all the training they've been through, Derek flicks the ball to him. Stiles takes it, turns, runs-

and scores a goal just before the time's up.

There is a stunned silence before the spectators start screaming, clapping their hands, chanting 'Bea-con-Hills!'

The next moment Derek is running to Stiles, taking out his helmet, grinning at the still-disbelieving boy, and kissing him.

Stiles is completely dazed.

''I've won the game,'' he says, leaning back. ''I've actually scored and we've won. It's- it's like I'm awesome, or something.''

Derek smiles and kisses him again. ''You are amazing. But we're still going to talk about what you've been doing on the offense.''

Stiles stills, then narrows his eyes and grins at Derek. ''Talk?'' Somehow, he comes even closer to Derek, a wall of heat between them. ''Will it require me to use the word _kraken_?'' he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorts, hiding his face in Stiles' neck. Suddenly, he notices Greenberg, looking at them with a blank face, as opposed to the cheer of everyone around.

Derek looks away. ''I thought we've agreed on the lights system,'' he says, brushing Stiles' ear with his lips.

Stiles' mouth open in a quiet gasp and Derek leans in for another kiss when Stiles stops him with a hand of his chest, staring somewhere before him.

Derek turns just to see as Allison hugs Scott, with Isaac standing oddly next to them, just to be dragged into the hug by Allison.

''Scott's gonna need me to freak out,'' says Stiles. ''I have to go.''

Derek huffs out a laugh but nods, then gives Stiles a small kiss, looking after him with a smile. When he turns, Greenberg is approaching him.

'' _Disgusting_ ,'' he mutters under his breath, passing him by.

Derek tenses, schooling his face to remain emotionless and takes a step to walk away, when Finstock stops both him and Greenberg in place.

'' _Excuse me_?'' he asks, incredulous, gazing at Greenberg. ''Kissing your loved one right after a victory, still on the field is the ultimate romantic move,'' he lectures. ''It was sweet and adorable like a _freaking cupcake_.''

Greenberg scoffs, looking away. ''He was _straight_ ,'' he says, tilting his head to Derek. ''And now he's with Stilinski as if-''

''How many times do I have to tell you that jokes are like an open milk outside of a fridge, they have short expiration dates,'' interrupts Finstock. ''Derek being straight was funny _months_ ago.''

''I've barely started dating Stiles,'' says Derek, flushing.

''You two've been bonded with UST ever since you'd first seen each other,'' dismisses Finstock. ''As to you,'' he points out to Greenberg with his finger, ''you're going to read a bunch of articles I give you and highlight all the adjectives you find in them, such as harassed, fluid, and _normal_.'' Finstock turns to glance at Derek. ''Go treat yourself to some fluff. You're doing good as a captain.''

Derek glances at him, surprised. ''Thanks.''

He looks after them for a beat before turning away and noticing Peter walking towards him.

''What was that about?'' asks Peter, looking at Derek with an unreadable face.

''Nothing,'' he lies, shaking his head.

Peter obviously doesn't believe him, his eyes still on Derek, but he doesn't press the issue either.

''Coincidentally, I met Christopher here,'' he starts and Derek rolls his eyes. He's pretty sure it wasn't an incident on Peter's, Chris' or both their sides. ''...and so I'm going out with him, leaving the house empty, just when you may need it, coincidentally.''

Derek doesn't roll his eyes this time, keeping them somewhere on the field, trying not to blush.

''You can invite Stiles if he agrees to come for a dinner, let's say, on Sunday and play chess with me,'' continues Peter.

''Sure,'' nods Derek, ''I'll ask him.''

Peter regards him intently for a beat, then nods as well and curls up his lips into an almost smile. ''If you need lube and condoms, you can find them in my-''

''No,'' Derek shakes his head, eyes determinedly staying on the field, still, ''I am not talking about it with either you or Laura. And now I'm leaving to talk, uh,'' he looks around, seeing that Stiles is still talking with Scott, clapping his back as the boy stares at his feet. ''Uh, to Jackson, and Lydia.''

Peter gives him an amused glance and grips his arm before walking away.

Derek does go to Jackson, as he is immersed in a conversation with Lydia nearby. ''Great job with taking the ball over.''

Jackson turns to him, watching him for a second before nodding. ''Thanks.''

Lydia smiles at Derek and he smiles back, feeling relieved that he's never really had to talk much around her, simple nods and smiles were always enough.

Scott is now turned to Isaac and Allison, shifting his weight as he talks with them, finally hugging both the girl and the boy. Derek comes up just as they lean back.

''Hey, you both did really good today.''

Isaac grins at him, flush on his cheeks. ''Thanks!''

Scott straightens and cocks an eyebrow. ''I don't need to hear that from you to know it,'' he says with this barely-keeping-my-smug-smile-away face again.

Derek doesn't answer, regarding him, and turns to Stiles. ''Wanna get something to eat?''

''Sure,'' replies Stiles. ''Hey, but can we go with the whole team?''

Derek turns to him and can't help a smile, seeing how excited he is – blush high on his cheeks, his eyes bright, he can't stand still. ''Sure.''

Stiles glances at him, smiling again, and Derek kisses him.

Stiles leans back and narrows his eyes. ''Wait, are you going to just leave Scott like that?''

''It's amusing when he thinks he's beaten me.''

''Oh wow,'' Stiles grins, his eyes gleaming, ''he's gonna be so mad when he realizes you find it _amusing_.''

Derek smirks.

 

''My uncle wants you to come to the dinner this Sunday.''

''Oh, sure,'' says Stiles, taking a bite of his burger. ''You think I can convince him to play chess with me?''

''I don't think you'll need to convince him.''

Stiles nods, satisfied. ''My house next week, then.''

Derek snaps his head to him, alarmed. ''What?''

''Don't worry, my dad doesn't play chess.''

''That's not what I-''

''Hey, Jackson,'' Stiles interrupts him, pointing to the napkins, ''that's totally red, right?''

Derek shakes his head. ''It's purple. And don't think you can distract me that easily.''

Jackson looks at them both, incredulous. ''I can't believe you guys. It's cadmium purple.''

''What?'' calls out Stiles, scowling. ''Why is it purple?''

''It's not purple,'' says Jackson, looking at him with disapprovingly. ''It's _cadmium_ purple.''

''Who cares about cadmium?''

Jackson opens his mouth to reply, but Lydia starts talking with him, leaving offended Stiles together with Derek. The rest of the team is already gone, Scott and Allison leaving now together with Isaac, the boy smiling at them with a dazed look on his face.

''But – does your dad like me?''

''You haven't met. How would I know?''

''Intuition?'' asks Derek, desperate.

Stiles rolls his eyes. ''You'll be fine.''

Derek nods, completely unconvinced, and drinks his coke.

''So do you want to leave the math club now?''

Derek shakes his head. ''No, I like knowing what Deaton's talking about for a change. I've already told Heather I'm a nerd now like you,'' he adds with a slight smile.

When Stiles doesn't answer, he glances at him and frowns at his silence.

''Being a nerd is not actually a compliment, you know,'' says Stiles.

Derek keeps frowning at him. ''It means you're smart.''

Stiles grimaces and looks at him briefly. ''No, it means that you're unpopular, awkward and ugly.''

Derek opens his mouth to argue but pauses and shuts them with a shrug. ''For me, it means that you're smart.'' He watches Stiles for a second. ''Don't fish for more compliments.''

Stiles smiles a bit at that, ducking his head. Derek wants to look at his embarrassment longer, but Jackson and Lydia stand up and they exchange goodbyes.

''Okay,'' says Stiles when they are gone. His lips suddenly curl up as he glances at Derek through his eyelashes. ''So, _kraken_?''

Derek gives him a flat look. ''I thought it was your safeword, not a code for making out.''

Stiles straightens and grins at him, confident. ''I only said kraken, you're the one who jumped to conclusions.''

Derek barely spares a glance at him and leans back in his chair, shrugging. ''I thought I could bring it up since my house is empty tonight, but I guess we could just-''

''It's totally a code for making out,'' agrees Stiles at once, turning to Derek with his whole body, watching him intently.

Derek huffs out a laugh and reaches for Stiles' hand, suddenly stopping in mid-air-

they are in the middle of a _fucking diner_.

It's not like at school, those are complete strangers and-

...and Stiles' smile tenses a bit and his eyes drop to the ground as he stands up from the table, Derek raising after him.

He feels like an asshole, putting this indifferent expression on Stiles' face, even though he has a good reason. He has a good reason.

 _You'll have to come out sooner or later,_ he hears Erica in his mind.

He grimaces.

That was different, it was still a party, among people he knows more or less, and they are already halfway to the exit, and-

he takes Stiles' hand, looking somewhere ahead.

 

They've barely stepped into Derek's room when Stiles' already turning to kiss him, shrugging off his jacket. Derek doesn't stop kissing him either, biting Stiles' lower lip and helping him take off his shirt, coming back to Stiles' mouth again, raking his back with his hands.

''Oh, fuck,'' Stiles breathes out as Derek starts kissing his neck, his hand wandering downwards. ''I want to blow you.''

Derek feels himself nodding. ''Shit, _Stiles_ -''

He is already on his knees before Derek, unzipping his jeans. He pauses for a second, seeing the clear outline of the cock through the boxers and touches it tentatively with his lips. Derek lets out a breath as Stiles mouths at his cock, still one layer between them. He reaches to Stiles' hair, brushing them lightly with his fingers.

Finally, Stiles takes out his cock from the boxers and licks a long stripe with his tongue. Derek can't stop a moan, his head falling back against the wall. Stiles smirks at him before focusing on his length again, pausing to look at it, kiss the crown, touch it with his cheek as he licks the balls experimentally.

Stiles comes back to working his cock, first just with his mouth and tongue, swirling around the end, licking off the precome, then adding a hand at the bottom and Derek grabs Stiles' hair, bringing him closer. Stiles moans at the movement, palming his own erection through the trousers. The sight of it turns Derek on so much he grabs some of Stiles' hair again and pulls him sharply towards himself, causing Stiles to gag on his cock.

He takes away his hand as Stiles retreats, coughing.

''Sorry, I'm sorry,'' he repeats, looking at Stiles closely, his hand hovering close. ''Are you okay?''

Stiles nods and almost immediately comes back to his cock, taking him in deep again. ''Do that again, with your hand,'' he rasps out and Derek's cock twitches at the implications.

He grabs Stiles hair, pulling him closer, although not as hard and close as before. He keeps him there and slowly moves his hip in and out, watching Stiles' pink lips around his length. After a while, he loosens his hold and lets Stiles work his length, his tongue mapping the crown and hand working at the base, the other one unbuttoning Stiles' own jeans to touch his cock. Soon, Derek is close and stops Stiles with a hand on his neck. ''I need to touch you.''

He takes off his shirt as Stiles tries to get his breathing under control, then wipes his mouth against Derek's stomach and gives him a shit-eating grin. He stands up and Derek reels him in for a kiss, not bothering to pretend it annoyed him. They go to the bed, Derek sitting down and pulling Stiles on his lap, straddling him. They make out for a while, just kissing and touching each other, before Derek moves Stiles down on the bed and lays over him, never breaking the kiss. He reaches downwards and unzips Stiles' jeans, taking his cock and starts working it, leaning back to look straight at Stiles as his breath catches, his cheeks pink and lips bitten red.

Stiles touches Derek's length and slowly jerks him off as well, tweaking his nipples. Derek groans and bends to kiss him hard, speeding up the rhythm. He retreats slightly to take in Stiles' pale chest and pink, hard nipples, his long neck. He is inexplicably drawn to the long column of it and now finds himself reaching to touch it, stroking down the pale skin with a few moles, brushing with his thumb Adam's apple. When he reaches the base of his neck his fingers tighten around it lightly and Stiles closes his eyes, moaning and tilting his head back. He's jerking Stiles off fast now, taking Stiles' hand away from his own cock to curl his fingers around both of their lengths, his left hand tight around Stiles neck, suffocating him.

''Good?'' he asks, unloosing his grip. ''I mean – green?''

It's a testament to how gone Stiles is that he doesn't make fun of Derek for the mistake. ''Green,'' he says roughly, barely opening his eyes, '' _more_.''

Derek keeps up the fast speed and tightens his fingers again, diving for another kiss while still suffocating Stiles and retreating, staring at the debauched boy under him until he's coming with hot, white stripes against his chest.

Stiles blinks at him and touches his cock, working himself fast, staring up at Derek. He comes soon after, their cum mixing up on his skin. Derek lays down next to him, keeping his hand on Stiles' neck and stroking the skin there until their breathing is back to normal.

''So, do you think we will ever get to the point of taking off jeans? I'm not even talking about boxers, or – I know I'm kinda forward here – going completely _nude_ ,'' says Stiles, his voice still slightly changed after the blowjob.

Derk kisses him slowly, his hand in Stiles' hair. ''How about in 15?''

''Yeah,'' replies Stiles, staring at him with wide eyes, ''that's very – _yeah_ ,'' he repeats, nodding.

 

''You see a dragon. What do you do?''

''A dragon?'' grins Allison and turns to Erica. '' _Black dragon fighting society_!''

''MCR!'' answers Erica.

They high-five. It's like they have their own language.

''Scott?'' asks Isaac.

''I'm looking after horses.''

Isaac keeps looking at him, drawing his eyebrows together. ''But, there is a dragon.''

Scott shrugs. ''Someone has to take care of the horses.''

''Okay,'' sighs Isaac. ''Derek?''

''I'm going the other way.''

Isaac frowns. ''So you're running away?''

''I'm not running away because dragons don't exist,'' replies Derek with raised eyebrows.

''Derek, it's Dungeons & Dragons RPG. In the universe of Dragonlance, dragons do exist.''

''Sure, and you're the _Dungeon Master_ ,'' says Derek flatly.

Isaac nods, trying to not recognize the sarcasm. ''Exactly.'' When Derek doesn't reply, he turns to the next player. ''Stiles?''

''I'm going with Derek.''

''But _why?_ ''

''This world is full of dragons. I saw one, so now I'm going to see the rest.''

''You're a knight, not a tourist!'' Isaac hides his face in hands. ''You guys can't play,'' he complains.

Scott and Allison smile at him, Scott pressing a kiss to Isaac's hairline, Allison hugging the boy and dimpling at Scott.

''What about you, Jackson?''

''I attack the dragon.''

''Good. Roll the dice.''

They look at the figure.

''You die,'' states Isaac.

''No, I'm reviving him,'' interjects Lydia and rolls the dice as well.

Isaac draws his eyebrows. ''Jackson is alive but it took a toll on you. You can't use any more spells.''

''But I have magic,'' frowns Lydia.

''Yes, but you're too weak-''

''What's the point of having magic if I can't use it?''

''I'm with Lydia on this one,'' Derek speaks up, nodding at Lydia and receiving a nod back.

''Boyd?'' asks Isaac, helpless.

''I'm writing a song.''

''There is a dragon _right before you_.''

''You can't tell when the inspiration strikes you,'' shrugs Boyd. Derek smirks and they bump their fists.

''Ohh, _The Bard's Song_?'' says Erica.

''Blind Guardian!'' answers Allison and they high-five again.

Yeah, their own language.

Derek takes a second to look around. He's playing a game imagining himself meeting a dragon, he is with his boyfriend, who plays chess and likes maths, with his friends of whom some listen to metal music, one recites poetry at random times and another watches rom-coms.

It would make no sense a few months ago, but right now he is just happy.

Isaac groans. ''What about you, Erica?''

''I talk to the dragon.''

'' _Thank you_ ,'' says Isaac emphatically.

Oh, come on. That makes no sense.

''Dragons can't talk,'' interjects Derek, frowning.

Isaac looks at him pointedly. ''The dragon says, _Good morning._ ''

Derek rolls his eyes as Stiles turns to him, smiling. ''Wait, now, I thought that dragons didn't exist?''

Derek's gaze narrows and he starts tickling Stiles until the boy is gasping for air, laughing. This close to him, Derek leans in to kiss him, gripping Stiles' neck and feeling him mellow out.

None of it was ever supposed to end like this.

It's perfect.

 

 


End file.
